


atelophobia

by PrincessButter87



Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Addiction, Angst, Brainwashing, Drug Use, Drug Withdrawal, F/M, Happy Ending, Irondad, Kidnapping, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Post-Spider-Man: Far From Home, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Torture, Sexual Assault, Spideychelle, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Tony's still alive tho, Torture, and peter and mj are already dating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-27
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2019-11-06 09:22:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 77,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17937134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrincessButter87/pseuds/PrincessButter87
Summary: (n.) the fear of imperfection, or not being good enough





	1. we're just getting started

_\---MJ---_

“Okay, listen, I’m not supposed to tell you this-”

“Then don’t, Ned,” I sighed.

“Peter has a whole surprise date night lined up for your tonight,” he admitted, looking only slightly ashamed of himself for admitting it.

“Shit,” I muttered. “I can’t.”

Ned frowned. “You can’t go on a super romantic date with your boyfriend as his apology for being so MIA lately?”

“No, I have homework.”

“You sound like him.”

I closed my locker door. “Listen, can you tell him I can’t? I have to study for our next decathlon competition, and I have a biology project and genetics are so complicated, and-”

“Okay, okay, I get it. I’ll tell him it just came up in conversation and I didn’t tell you anything.”

“Thanks. I gotta get to class, I’ll see you later.”

I headed off down the hall, too rushed to even wait for a response.

\---

I stayed late at the school, working on endless art projects, trying to catch up on my portfolio.

“Hey, MJ, I’m leaving for the night,” the art teacher, Mrs. Klein, said.

“Oh, okay, I’ll pack up-”

“No, no, you look like you’re in a good groove. I’m just letting you know. I trust you not to go through my gradebook or anything.”

I let out a sigh of relief. “Okay, thank you.”

“No problem, MJ. Have a good night, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I stayed there for another hour or two, but then I realized I had to get home. The compound was an hour away from Midtown, and if I didn’t make curfew, I was pretty sure Dad would send an Iron Man prototype to school with me, just to follow me around.

I packed up my stuff, went to my locker to make sure I had all of my books, then headed out of the school.

I got just out the doors before I realized I’d forgotten my biology textbook.

“Shit.”

I ran back to the door, hoping it’d be unlocked, but it wasn’t.

“Come on, come on.” I pulled the handle a few times, like the door would suddenly unlock, but to no avail. I looked through the window to see if there were any custodians left in the school this late, but the halls were dark and empty.

“Need a hand, sweetheart?”

I started to turn around, and something hit me directly in the temple. I folded like a house of cards, hitting the concrete limp.

\---

I slowly opened my eyes. I was strapped to a chair, a little cold, had the worst headache ever, and my eyes wouldn’t focus.

Of course they wouldn’t focus, I was concussed. Any hit to the head that’s hard enough to knock you out is hard enough to give you a concussion.

I was in a basement, that was for sure. There were no windows, just concrete walls and floors. I had no idea how long it’d been since I was knocked out.

I realized I wasn’t wearing the sweater I’d been wearing all day. My dark blue one that used to be Dad’s before it shrank in the wash. I didn’t have my boots on, or my socks. All I was wearing was my bra and my leggings.

No wonder I was chilly.

The first real, complete thought that went through my brain was about my homework. Where was it? How the hell was I gotta get it in on time?

The second one was about my dad. He probably thought I was still at school. I normally texted him when I got in my car, telling him I was heading home, but I hadn’t made it to my car.

Hence being in a dark basement, I guess.

“Morning, sleepyhead. You had quite the nap.”

I looked up. There was nobody in the room.

“Speaker right above you, sweetheart. Camera in the corner of the room, too.”

“You streaming this on YouNow or Twitch or something? Some dark web fetish website?”

“Oh, no, sweetheart. It’s a little deeper than that.”

That sent shivers up my spine.

“Maybe I gave you a little retrograde amnesia. You’re Michelle Jones, seventeen, the result of a one night stand between Tony Stark and Madeline Jones. Your mother died ten years ago of…oof. Scarlet fever. That’s a harsh blow. After her death, you moved in with Tony Stark, and have been living with him ever since. Is that correct?”

“Did you get that off of TMZ?” I snapped.

The voice chuckled. “Wikipedia, actually.”

“What do you want?”

“Well, Michelle, I’m also aware that Spider-Man works for your father. Is that correct?”

“You really just took this off of the first page of Google. Excellent villain work.”

He chuckled again. “I’m a friend of a friend of Spider-Man. The friend in question is in jail because of him. You might know him, he’s your friend Elizabeth Allan’s father.”

I flinched. “And what of it?”

“Well, Adrian seems to have a soft spot for the kid who put him in jail, so he won’t tell me who’s under the mask. Which really sucks, because I have a score to settle.”

I laughed. “Okay, so you lost to a kid in a onesie, and now you wanna play dirty to get even. I see.”

An electric shock surged through my body. I tensed, gritting my teeth. “Alright, I’m getting sick of your sarcastic quips. You really do take after your father. Anyways, I need to know who Spider-Man is. Full name, age, address, which classes he’s in, who he kissed under the mistletoe, social security number, really anything you can give me.”

“You’re gonna have to do a little better to get anything out of me.”

Another current rushed through me, up my legs, spine, and arms. I cried out, just for a second, before I clenched my jaw and bit my lip. This one was stronger, and lasted a little longer. When it let up, my whole body relaxed. I took a few deep breaths, trying to catch up.

“How’s that? Better?”

I laughed, humourlessly. “Fuck you.”

I got another zap, even longer this time. I bit down on my lip, grunting quietly.

“Okay, let’s start smaller. Does he prefer Vans or Converse?”

I didn’t answer.

“Michelle, all you have to do is answer a few questions, and then you’re free to go. I’ll give you back all of your stuff, take you back to your school, you can get in your car and go home. It’s really just a quick survey.”

“If you have my stuff, that means you have my phone, which means my dad’s gonna track it then come down here and beat your ass,” I said, staring directly into the camera.

“Oh, no, I’m a little smarter than that. I put your phone in the glove compartment of your car. Yeah, most phones, all you have to do is take the battery out and they’re untraceable, but I figured your dad would want a little more…security. He seems like a helicopter parent.”

I let my head fall forward, defeated.

“Yeah, it’s really a lost cause, hoping they’ll find you. If they even go looking, they’ll never know where to start.”

I sighed. How did I find myself in this situation again?

“Aw, chin up, sweetheart.”

I didn’t respond.

“I said, chin up.”

Yet another electric current flowed through me. This one wasn’t as strong, but it didn’t stop. It kept going and going and going until I finally cried out. Then it stopped.

“Is this some weird game of uncle to you?”

“Well, yeah, kind of. Although, instead of uncle, you can just say the name of whoever is under the mask.”

I scoffed. “Not gonna happen.”

“Suit yourself.”

There was an audible click, like the speaker had been turned off. When I looked at the camera, there was still a blinking red light, which meant he was definitely watching me.

I got a short zap.

“Seriously? I didn’t even do anything!”

Nothing. I stared at the wall, trying to keep my expression blank.

If I hadn’t procrastinated all weekend, I wouldn’t have had so much to do tonight, and I could’ve gone home early and gotten ready and gone on whatever date Peter had planned for us.

I wondered what he was doing right now. If he was calling me to ask if he could come over and help me with homework, or if he was hanging out with Aunt May. If he was talking to my Dad, trying to figure out why I’d fallen off the face of the planet, or if he was sleeping peacefully. If he was getting up, getting ready for school, or if he was at the compound, trying to track me down.

I wonder if anybody had figured out yet that I was missing.

_\---Peter---_

It’d been two hours since I called her, and normally she answered her phone when she got home, even if it was just to tell me she was busy and couldn’t talk that night.

I was just being anxious. Maybe her phone was dead and she forgot her charger at school. Maybe she didn’t get my call or texts. Maybe she was busy studying and hadn’t checked her phone. But I knew she was home, because she had a curfew.

I bought her Reese’s as a surprise for tonight. The big ones, too. When we were in Europe, she confessed that they were her favourite chocolate, and I’d been buying them for her ever since. I kept a stash of the bite sized ones in my backpack, my car, my locker, too, in case she had a bad day.

I’d bet my suit she was having a bad day right now. I wanted it to be tomorrow morning already, so I could see her at her locker in the morning, and listen to her complain about the homework, and then pull out the big Reese’s cups and see her whole face light up.

I turned my phone screen on, just so I could see her on my lock screen. It was a picture Ned had taken of us at lunch one day. She’s laughing, and I’m smiling at her, whipped cream smeared across my cheek.

There was no harm in calling Mr. Stark, right? Just to make sure she’d made it home safe.

I didn’t want to annoy him, though. He was probably working or making her dinner or something.

“Peter?”

“Yeah?”

May opened my door. “You’ve finished all your homework, right?”

I nodded.

“Do you wanna come out here and watch a movie with me?”

I looked back at my phone, and made a decision. “Can I- Can I call Mr. Stark first? MJ hasn’t texted me back or anything all evening, and I just wanna make sure she got home safe.”

“Yeah, I’ll be in the living room.”

She closed the door behind her.

I picked up the phone, dialling Mr. Stark. It rang once before he answered.

“Hey, Peter, I was just about to call and ask if MJ’s with you.”

I hesitated. “You mean she’s not with you?”

“No, she hasn’t texted me since…three.”

My heartrate picked up. “All I know is that she stayed in the art room all evening, but shouldn’t she be back home by now? It’s late.”

“Yeah, that’s why I asked if she stayed with you and May. I told her if she had too much to do, she could ask to stay with you so she didn’t have such a commute.”

“She hasn’t even spoken to me all day.”

I heard a quiet, muttered, “Shit.”

“Have you tried calling her?”

“Yeah. I tracked her phone, too, and apparently it’s in the school parking lot. Has been for a few hours.”

“Do you think she’s still in the art room and left her phone in the car today?”

“No, no, she texted me, remember?”

This was bad. This was very, very bad.

“Okay, Peter, grab your suit and come to the base. I can get Happy to pick you up-”

I got up, grabbing my suit and shoving it in my backpack. “I can drive, Mr. Stark.”

“Good. Right now, Peter.”

“Got it. I’m on my way.”

He hung up. I pulled my backpack on and ran out of my room.

“MJ’s missing and I’m going to the base,” I called to May. “I’ll call you when I get there, love you, bye!”

“Drive safe!”

I ran out of the apartment, down the hall, down the stairs to the parkade, and jumped into my car.

I was supposed to be on a date with her. I was supposed to be calling Mr. Stark, asking if she could stay the night so we could cuddle up and watch a movie. She was supposed to be next to me, laughing at me, or absentmindedly massaging my shoulders, or mouthing along to a movie she’d seen a million times. I was supposed to take her out to dinner, and give her flowers, and make her smile. That’s how tonight was supposed to go.

Or, at the very least, I should be playing Cup Pong with her via text, knowing she’s safe and sound.

She made me a playlist once. We’d been dating for three months, and she surprised me one morning by sending me a link. It was 48 tracks, all of which somehow perfectly captured us as a couple.

That’s what I listened to as I drove to the compound. I listened to those, and imagined the worst. That she’d hurt herself with something in the art room, and was bleeding out on the floor, alone. That she’d been shot in a drive-by. That she’d been taken and killed and had her organs harvested to sell on the black market.

No, this was MJ. She was a fighter. She was not a here-one-minute-gone-the-next type of person.

As much as I believed that, it didn’t stop my mind from thinking the unthinkable.

When I got to the compound, Happy was waiting out front.

“Took you long enough.”

“I didn’t want a speeding ticket!” I protested, getting out of my car.

“Tony’s in the workshop. Let’s go.”

We walked through the compound to Tony’s workshop. He was sitting at his laptop, watching something.

“Peter, get over here.”

I ran over, standing beside him. There was a video playing. MJ was in a chair, head hanging forward. She was in a bra and leggings, wrists and ankles tied to the arms and legs of the chair. She seemed to be in a dimly lit concrete room, like a basement or warehouse or warehouse basement.

“I got sent a link to a live feed. I couldn’t trace it myself, so I sent it to Rhodey, but he hasn’t come up with anything yet.”

I watched the screen intently. “Is she asleep?”

“No. She gets shocked every couple minutes. I think the plan is to keep her awake until she gives in.”

“Gives in?”

Mr. Stark finally looked up at me. “She was kidnapped because someone wants to even a score with you.”

“What?”

“That’s what he said. That he won’t let her go or stop shocking her until she tells him who Spider-Man is.”

I was reeling, trying to process this. She could tell him, I wouldn’t care. As long as she wasn’t hurt.

I watched the screen as her whole body tensed, head lifting, back arching. Her face was crumpled up in pain. Her eyes were squeezed closed, her nose was scrunched up, and she was biting down on her bottom lip.

“This can’t be real,” I whispered. “This can’t be happening to her.”

Mr. Stark didn’t say anything.

“How can you be so calm?” I asked. “That’s MJ. That’s your daughter.”

“Peter, I’m trying to figure this out-”

“How can you even think about anything but-”

“But getting her back?” he interrupted, snapping at me. “Because that’s what I’m thinking about. Getting her back. So I don’t have room to panic, or lose my cool, because I need to focus and figuring out whatever I can so I can get her back.”

He turned back to the screen, and it was quiet for a few moments. MJ got zapped again, her toes curling and fingers clamping around the arm of the chair as she waited it out.

“She’s there because of me,” I breathed. I didn’t mean for the thought to be out loud, it just was.

“No, Peter, don’t-”

“No, someone wants to know who I am, and this is-”

“It’s not your fault!” Mr. Stark shouted, standing up. “If it weren’t you, it’d be me. Whoever this is just wanted an excuse to kidnap her, okay? Take a seat, we’re gonna figure this out.”

I took a few deep breaths. He turned back to the laptop, sitting down again. I pulled up a chair and sat next to him.

I watched as MJ got zapped again. I hated seeing this. I hated knowing that she was in pain, and that she couldn’t sleep. She was probably cold, and scared, and lonely.

I wanted to be able to call her, even if it was just so she could hear my voice. I’d tell her it was okay, that I didn’t need my secret identity at the price of her. I’d tell her I loved her, and that I was on my way, and I’d make whoever was behind this hurt. I wanted to crack a dumb joke, or quote a vine, and hear her laugh.

I wanted her back, in my arms, safe. I wanted her cuddling up with me in bed or on the couch, mumbling a sleepy, “I love you,” before she fell asleep. I wanted her safe and happy.

But she was sitting in a chair in a basement somewhere, enduring electric shocks, all to protect me.

Mr. Stark’s phone rang.

“Rhodey, did you find anything?”

I could hear Rhodey’s voice, not clear enough to make out was he was saying, but clear enough to hear the downward inflection in his voice.

“So look again. Please, Rhodes, you know I wouldn’t ask this much of you this late if it- yeah. Thank you.”

He put the phone down, and stared at his laptop.

“FRIDAY, I need you to tell me if I’m missing something here. It’s a livestream with no source location, how is that possible?”

“ _You’ve_ done that before, sir.”

“Yeah, but I’m _me_. Not some _Taken_ villain wannabe. I don’t understand how they even got their hands on her.” He sounded increasingly frustrated. He was trying desperately to keep his cool, but someone had taken his daughter, and was torturing her in front of him. I could understand him unravelling. I was in no place to judge, either.

“I can email the NYPD and ask if they have any cameras located around Midtown.”

“Good idea.”

He sat back in his chair, sighing. MJ got shocked again, this time letting out a small yelp. Mr. Stark and I both flinched.

“I’m just gonna reveal my identity,” I said. “That’ll save her. They can’t torture her for that if it’s public knowledge.”

“No. Don’t. They’ll find something else they need to know about her. Likely about me. You’re not saying jack shit about it, okay? Promise me.”

I looked at him. “I promise.”

“Good.”

We sat there in silence all night, neither of us even feeling tired. MJ was shocked every few minutes, all night, so we stayed up with her.

After what felt like forever, the sun came up, sending beams of golden light into the workshop.

I realized MJ was still in the dark, and likely didn’t know it was morning.

“Peter?” Mr. Stark’s voice was soft and raspy.

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry I yelled at you last night.”

I knew if I told him it was okay, he’d tell me why it wasn’t. “Apology accepted.”

“Thank you.”

He was staring at the screen, unblinking. MJ looked absolutely exhausted. She had gotten to the point where she’d start to doze off, only to get shocked awake.

Then an airhorn blared through the speaker in her room. Her whole body tensed, and her head snapped up.

“Rise and shine, sweetheart.”

“Is it morning?” she asked, voice crackly.

“I’ll leave that up to your imagination.” I hated the sound of his voice. It was distorted, since it was coming through a speaker and then being picked up by the camera’s mic, but I still knew that if I ever heard it in person, I’d lose my mind. “What’s important for you to know is that from now on, for every hour you don’t tell me who Spider-Man is, your room gets one degree colder.”

I looked at Mr. Stark. He looked back at me, concerned.

She scoffed. “Fine. Freeze me to death, then. Might as well turn the temperature all the way down right now.”

There was a sharp pang in my chest. As much as I loved how brave and strong she was, I wanted her to just tell him what he wanted to know.

“Nah, I think the slow decrease will be a little more fun to watch. We’re going from sixty-eight to sixty-seven right now.”

She glared into the camera, jaw clenched.

The next few hours were painful to watch. She was shocked every three minutes and thirty seconds (I timed it), and you could see her slowly getting colder and colder. Every hour, her kidnapper would announce the new temperature.

When it got to sixty, we got a call from Rhodey. Mr. Stark put it on speaker.

“Got anything?”

“I found a potential source. Lower East Side, Clinton Street,” Rhodey listed off.

Mr. Stark stood up. “Peter, stay here, watch the feed. I’m heading there.”

“I’ll text you the address.”

Mr. Stark hung up, and pulled the strings on his hoodie. His suit extended out from his arc reactor.

“Okay, kid, call me if anything happens, got it?”

“Got it.”

He headed out, talking to FRIDAY quietly as he did.

I kept my eyes on the laptop screen.

“I’m right here, MJ. I’m right here.”

_\---MJ---_

“Fifty-nine.”

“Please. It’s basically summer in here.”

I was covered in goosebumps, my skin prickled, and I was clenching my jaw to stop my teeth from chattering. 59 degrees wasn’t even that cold, but it felt quite brisk today. Maybe it was because I was much less clothed than I would’ve liked.

My eyelids were heavy, too, but every time I started to doze off, I’d get a few volts up my spine. It was like having a bucket of cold water dumped on you to wake you up, but much, much worse.

Speaking of water, good lord, I was thirsty. My mouth felt dry and sandpapery, my throat stung when I breathed in, my lips were dry.

But I was not about to ask for water. I was not about to ask this man for anything.

“You look pretty tired there,” he said.

“Fuck off.”

“You probably want the shocks to stop, huh? Just lay down, maybe with a blanket, some hot chocolate, get some rest. Does that sound nice?”

He wasn’t going to do any of that, and I knew it. As lovely as it sounded, it was a distant fantasy. “Fuck off.”

“You know, there’s nobody telling me I can’t give you a break. If you’re nice enough, maybe I’ll turn the heat back on, and turn off the electricity.”

And what’s the price? “Fuck _off_.”

I got a stronger shock for that one. I let out a yelp as it hit, then closed my eyes and chewed my lip until it passed.

“That one’s to teach you manners,” he grumbled. “You know, telling someone to fuck off is generally considered rude.”

“Locking someone in a basement is generally considered rude,” I snapped, not even bothering to lift my head.

There was a pause, and I thought I’d been left alone for a moment, but then he said, “Touché.”

There was a long, long silence, broken only by short zaps of electricity.

“You know,” he said, “as far as torture goes, this is pretty tame. I’m really trying to give you as much of a chance as possible, you know? Buy you time before we get to the gross stuff.”

I glared at the camera. “You’re sick.”

“How about we make a deal? At about, oh, thirty degrees, we’ll get to the good stuff. That gives you more than a full day to make the decision that’s best for both of us.”

“Why don’t you come out here and shake on it?” I said, raising an eyebrow at the camera.

He laughed. “No, not yet. I’m kinda hoping if I leave you in there long enough, you’ll get desperate for human contact.”

I scoffed. “Wow, you really didn’t do your research on me. I’m the school loner.”

“Yeah, but I imagine you still can’t handle solitary confinement.”

The speaker clicked off again.

Alright, just me and my thoughts. My quite incomplete, unfocused, concussed thoughts.

After a few moments, my mind drifted to Peter. I missed him. I missed the safe feeling I associated with him. Right now, I couldn’t relax. I was tense, waiting for the next shock, waiting for more pain. I wanted nothing more than Peter’s arms wrapped around me. I wanted to breathe in the scent of his shampoo. I wanted him to kiss my forehead and tell me he loved me.

I wanted to think he was looking for me, but he’d been so busy lately that he probably hadn’t even noticed yet.

I closed my eyes and tried to remember the feeling strong enough to warm me up.

And then a jolt of electricity coursed through me, earning a quiet grunt from me.

Maybe I didn’t have enough happy memories to make this feel better. I couldn't imagine how anyone would.


	2. full of aching

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title taken from carry you by novo amor  
> also I forgot to mention this last chapter but this fic was highkey inspired by another fic called standing in the gallows by parkrstark (it's really good and I stole a lot of ideas from it for this fic yeet)   
> anyways enjoy

_\---Peter---_

“I know, I know, I just- I’m sorry, I got distracted.”

“Is MJ okay?”

I fought the sting in my nose. “No. We can’t find her, May.”

“I’m coming to the base.”

“You don’t have to-”

“I’m coming. I’ll see you soon, sweetie. Love you.”

I gave in. “Love you, too.”

 I put my phone down and turned my attention back to the screen. MJ was visibly cold now, skin losing its colour, hands shaking hard enough that I could see it, despite the less-than-HD quality and the distance between her and the camera. She was still getting shocked, but now they were three minutes and twenty seconds apart. She was losing ten seconds of her recovery time. She probably didn’t even notice.

A few minutes later, Mr. Stark barged back in, looking frustrated. Rhodey was trailing behind him. “I assume you can tell we didn’t have the right location?”

I nodded.

Mr. Stark sat down next to me. Rhodey pulled up a chair next to him.

“Hey, Peter, how you holding up?”

I shrugged. “About as well as you can when your girlfriend’s being held hostage by a psycho who claims to have a bone to pick with you.”

Rhodey stared at me for a moment. “So- so, good, or…?”

I shook my head.

“Not good. Gotcha.”

We all watched the screen. She looked scared, in her tough, MJ way. She rarely showed fear the way most people do. She didn’t have wide, wild eyes, she didn’t shake or panic. She’d set her jaw, and close her eyes, blocking it out. That’s what she was doing now. Setting her jaw and closing her eyes.

I had our song stuck in my head. _Only You_ by Yoke Lore. It only made me sadder, despite it being an upbeat song.

We were gonna get her back, and I was gonna web up the guy who’d taken her and throw him into the East River, just for making the song she made me love so much _hurt_.

My stomach growled, loudly. Mr. Stark looked at me.

“Kid, when was the last time you ate?”

I hesitated. “Uh, yesterday, before I came here.”

Rhodey and Mr. Stark sighed in unison. Rhodey stood up. “Come on, Peter, I’ll grill you a cheese.”

I paused, glancing at the screen. Mr. Stark gave me a stern look, so I stood up and followed him to the kitchen, despite feeling like I was betraying MJ somehow.

Once we were alone, Rhodey asked, “How are you feeling?”

No point in lying, I guess. “Not good. I feel kind of nauseous, to be honest. I just keep thinking about how cold and alone MJ is, and…”

Rhodey put a hand on my shoulder. “We’ll get her back, okay? I have a few colleagues working on tracking her down. If it comes to it, I’ll get a warrant to search every building in the state. We’re bringing her home.”

I forced a small smile. “Thanks, Rhodey.”

He started assembling the grilled cheese, pulling out the ingredients and kitchenware necessary.

“I wish there was something I could do for her, you know?” I said softly. “Like, I wanna be able to talk to her or something, just so she knows we’re coming.”

He nodded. “I know.”

It was quiet for a long time. I wanted to run back into the workshop and look at the laptop, but I knew all I was gonna see was MJ getting shocked.

As Rhodey flipped the grilled cheese, he asked, “You guys have been together for a while, right?”

I nodded. “Since the Europe trip.”

He looked impressed. “That’s, what, almost eight months?”

“Yeah.”

“Wow. You really love her, too, don’t you?”

My nose started to sting. “Yeah. I- uh- I planned a date for us for yesterday. She had too much homework, though, and I didn’t wanna stress her out, so that didn’t happen.” I hesitated, because saying the next part made it true, but I had to get it off my chest. “And now I’m scared I’ll never get to go on another date with her again.” Tears pooled in my eyes, blurring my vision.

“Hey, of course you will. I’ll help you plan one when she gets back, okay?”

I nodded, too scared to speak in case my voice broke.

There was another stretch of silence before Rhodey flipped my grilled cheese onto a plate, handing it to me.

“Let’s sit in here while you eat, okay? You know how Tony gets about crumbs in the workshop.”

I agreed. I knew he was less worried about crumbs and more worried about me being too attached to that livestream.

We chatted idly while I ate. He asked about school, how my marks were, if I was prepared for the next decathlon competition. I answered as best as I could, trying not to sound disinterested or distracted, even though I kind of was.

I normally loved talking to Rhodey. We got along really well. But today…I wasn’t in a chatty mood, I guess.

I finished the sandwich and put the plate in the dishwasher, then he and I headed back to the workshop.

May was sitting in my seat when we got back, talking quietly to Mr. Stark. Mr. Stark tilted his head towards me, and she stopped talking and turned around.

“Hey, sweetie. Sorry I stole your seat.”

“It’s okay.”

Mr. Stark got up. “We were just talking about how you should go to bed.”

I stared at him. “No, no, I can’t- I can’t-”

“Yes, you can. We’re not taking our eyes off of her, okay? And everything’s being recorded, so you’re not really missing anything.” I must’ve looked really anxious, because Mr. Stark stepped closer to me, putting his hands on my shoulders. “Listen, I’ll wake you up if anything changes. But you need to at least try to rest.”

“I’m not leaving her-”

“You’re not doing anything. When we get her back, she’s gonna need you at full strength. So you need to take care of yourself. For her, okay?”

I knew that wasn’t what he believed, but he was trying to appeal to me.

But I gave in. I knew there was no version of this conversation that ended in him being okay with me staying up another night. No point in wasting my breath. “Okay.”

“Alright, go to your room. Tell FRIDAY if you need anything.”

I nodded, then turned and left the workshop. I went upstairs, to the residence wing, and went into my room. I had clothes and toiletries here, so I changed into pajamas, brushed my teeth, and crawled into bed.

I would’ve given a kidney just to have MJ next to me for the night. To have her snuggle into my side, and ask me to play with her hair, and hum happily until she fell asleep.

It should’ve been me. I should’ve been kidnapped, not her.

My nose was still stinging, and now that I was alone, I couldn’t fight it. Pulling an extra pillow to my chest, I started to cry.

Once I started crying, I couldn’t stop. I pulled out my phone, and texted May.

Me: can you come to my room?

May: be right there!

A few moments later, my door slowly swung open.

“Hey, sweetie, are you okay?”

I let out a sob, and she rushed to my side, kneeling next to the bed and pushing hair out of my face.

“I should’ve protected her.”

“That’s not your job.”

I sniffled. “I still- she’s there because of _me_. Because someone wants to fight _me_.”

“I know, Peter, it’s not fair.” She kissed my forehead, then gave me a sad smile.

Feeling like this sucked. Like I was crying over Uncle Ben again. Or eight-years-old, crawling into bed between May and Ben, crying because I missed my parents.

“Can- can you sleep in here tonight?”

“Of course, sweetie.”

She crawled into bed next to me, and laid out her arm so I could put my head on her shoulder. I cried a while longer, but eventually fell asleep.

_\---MJ---_

“Forty.”

It was a robotic, Siri-sounding voice now.

I was freezing. I was shaking hard, my teeth were chattering, and I couldn’t breathe properly. The inside of my chest felt like it was shaking, too.

I was breaking, I could feel it. Not in the sense that I was going to give him any information, but in the sense than I was going to fall apart. He’d see the vulnerable side of me, and exploit it.

I wasn’t ready to beg or cry. I wasn’t ready to whine about missing Peter, or wanting Dad’s sweater, or being tired.

God, I was exhausted. So fucking exhausted. But I couldn’t sleep. I didn’t trust him enough to sleep in front of him, with that camera on me. Not to mention, anytime I started to relax, or drift off, I got a nasty wake-up call.

I wondered how many volts he was using on average. I wondered if it’d kill me before Dad or Peter or even Uncle Rhodes found me.

“Thirty-nine.”

“Bite me.”

_Zzzt._

Okay, take me seriously then. That meant he was still there, watching and listening.

But it was still lonely in here.

“You forgot how to love, I’ll remind you,” I sang, my voice raspy and quiet from dehydration. I didn’t care, I needed a reminder of what I was waiting to get back to. Peter. Music. Warmth. “Leave this city and fill you up, I was hungry, you were stuck.”

“Thirty-eight.”

Hm. He didn’t like me singing.

“Even though no sticks and stones, you still come through my broken bones.”

“Thirty-seven.”

“I’ll move it on because you deserve the holy word to fix your home-”

“Thirty-six.”

“-find the time, make the plans, and start to prep your little death.”

“Thirty-five.”

My voice shook as I sang, I was shivering so hard. “Wait in starlit nightlights, feel your fingers keep me glowing. I wake in LA, feel the sun and pace my smoking-”

I got the most painful electric shock yet. I cried out, arching my back, scrunching up my face. It got stronger as it went.

“Fuck!” I screamed.

It didn’t stop. I kept yelling until I was out of breath.

If he kept doing this, I’d die. I knew that much.

After what felt like a century, it stopped. My body collapsed forward, as much as it can when you’re tied into a chair.

The speaker clicked back on. “I see you’re ready for the nasty stuff.”

“You promised thirty degrees,” I snapped.

There was a pause. “Thirty-one.”

“Last chance, sweetheart. Let’s start slow, huh? Favourite song?”

_Guiding Light_ by Mumford and Songs. But I kept my mouth shut.

“Okay, maybe you don’t know that one. Favourite colour?”

It was green. Deep, forest green.

“Favourite movie?”

_Pitch Perfect_ , but nobody knew that but me, May, and Ned. And I definitely wasn’t about to tell this asshole.

“Michelle, sweetheart, do you know how long you’ve been down here?”

I shook my head.

“I’ll tell you if you tell me how Spider-Man likes his coffee.”

I scowled into the camera. “You can go fuck yourself.” My words were slurred. I couldn’t seem to use my mouth properly anymore.

Pause. “Thirty,” said the robotic voice.

I got a strong shock. I couldn’t stop myself from screaming, my throat burning as I did.

It stopped, for a second, but I didn’t get to catch my breath before I got another shock.

“You know, you likely already have hypothermia.”

Probably.

“You want some hot chocolate, maybe?”

I didn’t answer.

“Come on, sweetheart, look into the camera, and beg for me.”

I shook my head.

Electricity shot up my spine again. I tried to scream, but I couldn’t.

I felt sluggish, like I was in a pool of molasses or something.

“Beg.” His voice had lost all humour, gone cold and demanding.

I swallowed my pride and looked into the camera. “Please,” I rasped. “Please, I need- I need something to drink.”

“Well, sweetheart, why didn’t you just ask? I’ll send in my guy.”

It was an exercise in humiliation. That was it. He’d give me anything I needed, provided I begged like a dog for it first.

The door under the camera opened, and a tall man, wearing a ski mask, entered, holding a mug of hot chocolate. He held it up to my mouth, allowing me to take a sip.

I burned my tongue, and my throat, but it was warm and it was a fluid, so I drank it anyways. I was careful not to drink too fast, because I couldn’t imagine scalding hot liquid would feel great on my frigid body. I’d rather drink it than wear it.

I gulped the whole thing down, then pulled back, trying to catch my breath.

“What do you say, Michelle?”

Oh, fuck this guy.

“Thank you,” I mumbled.

“Sorry, I didn’t catch that.”

“Thank you,” I said louder. He chuckled.

“You’re welcome.”

I let my head hang again, ashamed of myself. I was breaking, and he knew it. How long did I last? A matter of hours?

“Do you need anything else, sweetheart?”

“No.”

“Nothing else? Not, say, a blanket? Do you want me to turn up the thermostat, maybe?”

My head snapped up. He chortled.

“You’ll have to beg for that, too, Michelle.”

I didn’t like the way my name rolled off his tongue.

“Or if you’re not in a begging mood, I can always start turning it down again-”

“Please!” I gasped. “Please. I’m so cold.” My voice was shaky and choked. I couldn’t cry, I couldn’t cry, I couldn’t cry-

“More.”

“Please, please, I’m freezing and I can’t move and I wanna- I wanna go home. Please.”

The speaker clicked off. I started to panic. No, no no no no no-

“Forty,” came the robotic voice. I let out a sigh of relief.

“Thank you.”

I dropped my head and stared at my lap.

“I wanna go home,” I repeated, softly, just for myself. “I want my dad and Uncle Rhodes and Peter and May and Ned-”

My voice broke, and I started to cry, as silently as I could. Tears fell from my face onto my legs, darkening my leggings with small dots.

“Only you can see the scars,” I sang, voice shaky and broken as I cried through the lyrics, “only you can run that far. Even though no sticks and stones, I feel you through my broken bones.”

I waited for the inevitable shock, but it didn’t come. I closed my eyes.

There was nothing they’d do to me in my sleep that they wouldn’t do to me awake, anyways.

\---

_Zzzt._

“Up and at ‘em, sweetheart. Naptime’s over.”

I bit my lip to stop from crying.

“Your temperature is now at sixty-five,” he said.

I was still cold, but at least it was getting better.

“You know what? I think I need to get in there myself. We need some one-on-one time.”

Oh, no. God, no.

The speaker clicked off, and a few moments later, the door opened. The man before me was shorter than I expected. His hair was buzzed off, and he had black stubble around his chin. He had these unnerving, piercing eyes, and a few facial scars.

I memorized these things, in case I had to describe him to the police.

He sat down, cross-legged, on the floor.

“Let’s make a list, shall we? You’re definitely dehydrated, probably still hypothermic. Your stomach was demonstrating some impressive whale calls while you slept, so I’d say you’re probably craving a Big Mac right about now. I don’t quite know what the long term medical effects are of being electrocuted, but whatever they are, you’ll have some of those. Really glad you’re not secretly diabetic, because then I’d have had to buy insulin, and that shit’s expensive. Oh, you probably really need to piss. You’re definitely touch-starved, too, since another human hasn’t touched you since the night we, uh, nabbed you.”

I glared at him.

“Now, I could feed you. I’ve got a bunch of corndogs that you can just toss in the microwave, if you need something real quick.”

“Are you gonna make me beg?” I snapped.

He laughed, standing up and approaching me. He grabbed my face in his hand, palm under my chin, fingers pressing into my cheeks. His hands were calloused and dry.

“Glad you’re catching on, sweetheart. You’re gonna beg, but you’re gonna do it looking into that camera.”

He turned my head towards the camera, too fast. I made a choked, pained noise.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Michelle, am I being a little too rough?” His voice took on a mocking tone. I gritted my teeth. He leaned in, getting his face right up close to mine. “If you want, I can be a little gentler. I’ve been told I’m quite a tender lover.”

I jerked back, and he laughed.

“You act like there’s no way that’s on the agenda. Come on, Michelle, I’ve got a half naked girl who’s too weak to fight back under my care and control.” He ran his hands over my shoulders, traced fingers down my arms. It sent a shiver up my spine. “Maybe if I starve you of human contact enough, you’ll want it.”

“Never,” I spat.

He looked amused. He put his hands on my thighs, squeezing. My stomach did a flip, and I turned my head away.

“Out of curiosity,” he said, “would you, say, meow like a little kitten to get me to stop touching you?”

I closed my eyes and bit my lip.

“Meow for me, Michelle.”

I felt tears leak out of my eyes and streak down my cheeks. He leaned in closer, breathing hot air onto my neck.

“It’s either that, or…” He hooked a finger under the waistband of my leggings, pulling it away from my skin, then letting it go. It snapped audibly against my stomach.

I caved, dropping my head, meowing softly.

“Louder.”

I meowed again. He took his hands off of me and stepped back. “Was that so hard?”

Yes. It was. It was humiliating and dehumanizing and I was furious, but I couldn’t do anything. I’d been effectively rendered powerless.

“Now look into the camera, and beg for food.”

I couldn’t do it. I closed my eyes, turning my face away.

“Starve, then.”

He left the room, door slamming shut behind him. The sound echoed in the room.

_\---Peter---_

I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes. “Thanks for…replaying that for me.”

“Yeah,” Mr. Stark said. “Yeah, I didn’t wanna wake you up, but…”

“Yeah.”

He closed the window that was replaying what happened while I was asleep, revealing the live feed behind it. She was sitting there, head dropped, shoulders shaking.

She was crying.

“She’s been crying on and off since he left the room.” His voice was soft, heartbroken. He looked like he’d been crying, too.

I leaned on the table, resting my chin on my arms, watching the screen. Her hands weren’t shaking anymore, which was good, I guess. I was worried about her recovering from the hypothermia, but there was nothing I could do.

“Water,” she mumbled. “I need water.”

The speaker clicked on. “Well, sweetheart, you know the rules.”

She shook her head weakly. “Water.”

“Did your daddy never teach you manners?”

Mr. Stark’s jaw clenched.

“Come on, Michelle. You know the rules.”

“Please.” Her voice was so quiet and broken, it was almost unrecognizable. “Please, I need water.”

“You’re really bad at begging.”

She lifted her head, slowly, looking into the camera. Her face was sunken and pale, making her eyes look bigger and sadder. I could feel my heart breaking. “Please.” It came out a wrecked sob, and she dropped her head again.

“If you would stop crying, maybe you wouldn’t be so thirsty.”

She didn’t respond.

“Fine. I’ll send my guy in.”

A moment later, the same tall masked man from yesterday walked in, holding a bottle of water. MJ lifted her head. The man approached her, and grabbed her face, tilting it up towards her, and put the bottle to her lips. She closed her eyes and gulped it down, not wasting a drop. When she finished, and he pulled it away, she started coughing. The man laughed at her, and left the room.

She kept coughing, almost violently. It got to the point where she was gagging.

“You’re even bad at drinking water,” came the voice.

She stopped coughing, even though she was clearly still choking. She held her breath for a minute, then started coughing again, hard.

“Do I get a medal for kidnapping the most pathetic girl in New York? I feel like that’s an accomplishment.”

“Fuck you,” she coughed.

“You should be thanking me, you bitch. Now that you’re aware of how pathetic you are, maybe you can accept it.”

“I’m not- not pathetic.”

He laughed. “Really? I’m tempted to show you this footage, so you can see how broken and small you are. You think your dad’s even looking for you? You haven’t even been reported missing.”

I frowned. “That’s not true.”

Mr. Stark nodded. “I know.”

“That’s- you’re lying,” she said. Her voice sounded better, likely because she’d just had water.

“How would you know? Why would he even let you get kidnapped? Why wouldn’t he send you to school with a bodyguard? Honestly, sweetheart, taking you was like taking candy from a baby. No, like taking vegetables from a baby, because nobody out there wants you.”

“Stop,” she whimpered.

“Your dad only took you in because your mom died, not because he loves you. You’re an accident, Michelle, a terrible, terrible accident. Your dad is probably thanking his lucky stars that you’re gone, that he doesn’t have to deal with your snarky, difficult ass anymore. He doesn’t love you, sweetheart, nobody does.”

I waited for her snarky response, her denial, but it didn’t come. Mr. Stark had clenched his fists, and glared at the screen like he could burn through it.

“So why don’t you give in and tell me what Spider-Man’s favourite food is, and then I’ll make you a nice hot meal, and untie you, and you can move on.”

“No.”

“Come on, Michelle, you know it’s your best option.”

“No.”

“Who’s gonna care if you tell?”

“Me.”

He laughed. “So self-righteous. Did you get that from one of your dad’s Avenger buddies?”

She didn’t answer. Her shoulders started shaking again.

“Oh, again with the waterworks. You know, this is probably why Tony doesn’t care about you.”

“Fuck off!”

He laughed, again, sounding so self-satisfied.

“Please, just stop.”

“Look into the camera and act like the little helpless kitten you are, and then I’ll consider leaving you alone.”

“No.”

“Fine. Your choice.”

The speaker clicked off, and she looked relieved for a moment, but then the door opened. It wasn’t the tall man, it was the shorter one.

“Mr. Stark, do you know who that is?”

He nodded. “FRIDAY ran facial recognition a few hours ago. His name is Mac Gargan. He was an associate of Adrian Toomes’.”

So this was my fault. I knew it.

“Don’t, Peter. I know that look. It’s not on you.”

I was about to protest, but then I realized Mac was standing over MJ, holding her face so she had to look at him.

“You know how to make me stop. So make me.”

She stared blankly at him. He let her face go, then wound up and slapped her, hard. She cried out as her head flew to the side, and angry red mark already appearing on her cheek.

“I wanna hear you meow.”

She looked back at him, eyes exhausted but angry. “Fuck you.”

He wound up and slapped her again. She shouted again, then started crying.

“If you’re gonna be such a bitch-”

He grabbed the chair and threw it on it’s side, then knelt down in front of her and grabbed her hair in his fist, yanking her head up. She looked absolutely terrified.

“You know how to make it stop, Michelle.”

She spat at him. He jerked back, slowly lifting a hand to his face and wiping at his cheek.

“That was a mistake.”

He pulled her head up further, then slammed it into the ground. The crack echoed in the room. When he stepped away, her body was limp in the chair. Blood started to seep out from under her head.

“Oh my god,” I whispered. “He killed her.”

Mr. Stark was completely still.

Her face was entirely relaxed, her body sagged towards the ground, and blood was soaking her hair. I felt my stomach twist. “I’m- I’m gonna be sick.”

I ran across the workshop and grabbed the garbage can, puking into it. That seemed to snap Mr. Stark out of it. He rushed over, rubbing a hand up and down my back as I threw up. I kept vomiting until there was nothing left in my stomach, and I was just dry heaving, and then eventually my legs gave out, and I let go of the garbage can, dropping to the floor. Mr. Stark sat in front of me, brushing hair out of my face.

“FRIDAY, page Rhodes.”

“Paging Coronel James Rhodes.”

Rhodey walked in a few seconds later. “Hey, Tony, what’s-”

“I need you to watch the computer.”

“Why, what’s going on?”

“Just go sit over there, you’ll see.”

Rhodey went and sit down. I heard a quiet, “Oh, shit,” when he saw the screen.

Mr. Stark wiped sweat off of my forehead. I was breathing hard, trying to catch up from puking.

“Okay, let’s get you upstairs.”

He helped me up, and kept a hand on my shoulder as we walked up to the residence wing.

“Do you want me to run you a bath?”

“I want you to find MJ and keep her alive,” I mumbled.

“Yeah, I want that, too.”

We walked into my room, and Mr. Stark made me brush my teeth while he filled the bathtub.

“I’m gonna go back to the workshop and try to track the source again. Tell FRIDAY to page me if you need me.”

He left the room, shoulders sagging.

_\---MJ---_

An airhorn blared, waking me up. My head was pounding, and I couldn’t open my eyes because the room was too bright. I was still lying on the ground. I tried to lift my head, but my hair was matted to the ground.

“How you feeling, sweetheart?”

I groaned, “Peachy.”

“You feeling chatty yet?”

“Go to hell.”

“Try again.”

I opened my eyes, ignoring the burning pain in my head. “Go. To. Hell.”

_ZZZZZZT._

I screamed, and when the electrical current stopped, I found myself crying.

“Try again.”

“No.”

Another jolt of electricity hit. I arched my neck, which peeled my hair off of the floor. I shouted again, sobbing painfully.

“Try again.”

“Just kill me.”

“Well, you’re not much use to me dead, are you?”

“I’m not gonna be much use to you alive, either,” I muttered.

“I can always hold you for ransom. What’s the most your dad would be willing to cough up for you? Ten, maybe twenty bucks?”

“He’d- he’d pay more than that,” I said, but even I couldn’t convince myself it was true.

“I don’t know, Michelle, still haven’t seen anything on the news about you.”

I closed my eyes. “How long have I been here?”

He laughed. “God, you’ve been here for weeks.”

I frowned. “No…no, that’s not right. He- he would’ve-would’ve found you by now.”

“Not if he’s not looking.”

I sagged into the ground. “He’s not coming?”

“No, sweetheart. I’m all you’ve got now.”

The speaker clicked off.

I wanted my dad. I wanted him to bust in here and grab me and take me home. I wanted him to make me an omelet, and kiss the top of my head as he walked by. I wanted to go home to him.

But he didn’t want me to come home.

And why would he? I was a mistake. He got stuck with me because my mom’s family was pro-life and then she died and now here we were. He never wanted me.

He never wanted me.


	3. nailing it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's a lot of blood in this chapter. and a lot of screaming. really, it's a good thing this isn't a visual medium, because I think i'd be sick oops

_\---Peter---_

Three days.

She stayed on the floor like that for three days.

Mac stopped talking to her through the speaker system. She’d been given water once by the tall guy. But other than that, she just laid there.

Her eyes were always half-lidded, and she never seemed to blink completely, her eyes just kind of…fluttered. Her lips were barely parted. If it weren’t for the occasional shock that made her whimper or yelp, I’d think she was dead.

In the last couple days, we’d set up more computers with the livestream going, all constantly working to trace the source. Rhodey, Mr. Stark, May, Pepper, Happy and I all occupied the workshop, each at our own station. My job was to try to find out anything I could on Mac Gargan, anything that could give us a clue or a hint.

And then-

“We got a location,” Mr. Stark said.

“What? Where?” I asked.

“Hell’s Kitchen. Off of West Forty-Second. Rhodes, you’re with me.”

Mr. Stark and Rhodey were standing up. I stood up, too. “I’m coming.”

“No, you’re not. Sit down.”

“I’m coming,” I repeated, with a little more conviction.

“Peter, these guys are dangerous. Way worse than Toomes, okay? You stay here, and I’ll keep you updated.”

“But I-”

“Happy, keep an eye on him.”

Mr. Stark left the room. Rhodey gave me a sympathetic look, and then followed him out.

I sighed, turning back to the screen.

I hated seeing her like this. Hair still soaked in blood, skin pale, face sunken, eyes empty.

But however hard it was on me, it was a million times worse for her.

The airhorn blared, and she flinched hard.

“Hey, sweetheart, you’re looking a little parched.”

She moaned, her brows furrowing.

The door opened, and the tall guy walked in with a glass of water.

I had a bad feeling about this.

The man pulled the chair up a little bit, enough so she could drink without choking. He was careful not to touch her skin at all.

Her hair was matted to the side of her head with so much blood, you couldn’t see the actual colour of her hair through all of the dark red.

She drank the whole thing ridiculously quickly, and then he set her back down and left the room.

Within about ten minutes, she was shaking. Her whole body was vibrating.

“What’s going on?” I asked, looking around the room.

Nobody had an answer.

And then she screamed.

It was high-pitched and blood curdling. Her veins became visible on her neck, her face went red, and she was trying to curl into the fetal position but she was too restrained.

I pressed my lips together, fighting back tears. I would’ve done anything to save her.

She stopped screaming as suddenly as she started.

“Get away from me,” she muttered, voice slurring a little. “Get the _fuck_ away from me!”

“There’s nobody there,” I said, mostly to myself.

Pepper shot me a worried look. “She was drugged. Every other time they’ve given her water, it’s been out of unopened bottle. This time it was out of a glass. They drugged her.”

I looked back at the screen. She’d turned her face into the ground and was whimpering, trying to scoot her chair away from something.

“Is she hallucinating?” I asked, my voice small.

Nobody answered. It didn’t help.

We watched as it slowly got worse. She was shaking and crying and sweating. A lot. Her skin got shiny fast.

At the two hour mark, she called for her mom.

Her eyes were impossibly wide, and her body had relaxed now.

“Mom?” She watched the air in front of her intently. “Mom, please, I need you. Take me with you.”

She watched for a few more seconds, then started to cry.

“You don’t want me, and Dad doesn’t want me, and Peter doesn’t want me-”

The speaker clicked on. “Who’s Peter?”

She froze, then slowly turned her head, gazing up at the ceiling. “Nobody.”

“Is that your boyfriend? Did he dump you?”

She flinched. “He’s gonna.”

I wanted to scream. I wanted to grab her by the shoulders and tell her I wasn’t going to leave her, that I loved her too much and that hearing her say that broke my heart.

I glanced up. All eyes in the room were on me.

“What?”

“Are you okay, Peter?” May asked.

I shook my head, and turned my attention back to the screen.

“-because that’s all you are, sweetheart. You’re a pathetic, bloody, sweaty, crybaby mess. Who could ever love you?”

Me! I could! Because it was so easy to love her!

She squeezed her eyes shut. “I know.”

The speaker clicked off.

A moment later, the door open, and Mac walked in. He kneeled in front of her.

“Tell me who Spider-Man is.”

She didn’t move.

“Open your eyes. Look at me.”

“No,” she sobbed.

He grabbed her face in one hand, and she yelped. “ _Look at me!_ ”

She opened her eyes, and screamed, jerking her head away. He grabbed her face again, and lifted it enough to start to lift the chair. She let out a soft whine.

“Tell me who he is.”

“I can’t.”

“Of course you can.”

“No,” she sobbed. “No, I can’t.”

“Why not? Do you not know?”

She shook her head. “I don’t want Dad to hate me.”

Mac dropped her. “He already does, you useless fucking waste of space!”

She sobbed. Mac grabbed the chair by the arms and set it upright again, then left the room. He came back in a second later, holding something in his hand. It was slightly obscured by his body, so I couldn’t tell what it was, but it was definitely metal.

“Don’t hit her with it, don’t hit her with it, don’t hit her with it,” I breathed to myself.

He stood over her. “You’re so goddamn fucking useless. You’re a waste of my time and resources.”

She looked up at him, looking…hopeful. “Are you gonna kill me?”

My stomach twisted. She looked so happy at the prospect.

“You’re gonna wish I did.”

He held the metal thing over her hand.

I realized a second too late that it was a nail gun.

He shot a nail through her hand and through the arm of the chair. She shrieked, her hand splayed and tense, the muscles in her arms tensing. He moved on to the other one, shooting a nail through that hand, too. She screeched again, throat sounding scratchy by the time she stopped.

I remembered all the times I held those hands, every time she’d put a hand on my chest or on my shoulder or on my face, every time those hands had held charcoal or paintbrushes or books.

And I cried. I cried for her, because I knew if those nails damaged any nerves, she might lose a part of her identity. The artist side of her. The side that doodled on my notes in class, or painted posters for school events, or made beautiful cards for birthdays or holidays. Her fingers might lose some of their function, her hands might be perpetually shaky.

I put my head down on the table and sobbed. May came over and kissed the top of my head and rubbed my back.

“You don’t have to keep watching. You can let us handle this.”

“No, I’m staying. I’m not leaving her.”

She hesitated, but then said, “Okay, honey.”

She went and sat back down.

When I looked up at the screen again, Mac was still pointing the nail gun at her. She was crying, her whole body shaking as she did.

“Maybe if you weren’t such a pain in the ass, someone would love you. God, you’re such a baby.”

She jerked her head to the side, like that’d stop her from being able to hear him.

“I should put a nail through your skull,” he sneered. “I bet that’d be a huge relief to your dad. One less problem to worry about.” He stepped closer to her, pressing it to her lower stomach. “Maybe I’ll put it through here. I figure that’d render you sterile.”

“Don’t,” she pleaded. “Please, don’t.”

“You know the rules. Beg. Meow.”

She took a breath, and let out this soft mewl.

“Again.”

She meowed again, looking up desperately at him.

He pulled the trigger on the nail gun anyways. She let out a sharp cry, and then passed out, head dropping forward. He walked out of the room.

The workshop was quiet for a few minutes, all of us in shock. You could see the head of the nail against MJ’s leggings.

My phone started buzzing on the table, breaking the silence. It was Mr. Stark. I picked up.

“H-hi,” I sniffled.

“She’s not here. It was another dead end.” He sounded bitter and tired.

“Did you- did you see-”

“I did,” he said, his voice hardening. “And I’m gonna kill him for it.”

He hung up.

I put my phone down on the table, screen up. I stared at the screen, watching the picture of MJ and I fade to black.

Yeah, sounds about right.

_\---MJ---_

When I woke up, the room still looked…funky. The walls seemed to move towards me and away from me as they pleased, the floor felt tilted, and the ceiling was…changing. It’d be plain concrete one second, and then I’d blink, and it’d be on fire or something, and then I’d blink again, and it’d be concrete.

The nails that had impaled me weren’t exactly helping, either. I was dizzy and nauseous and coated in blood. Blood caked my hands, my stomach and crotch, my hair.

I was gonna die in here, like this. Alone, dirty, unloved. I’d never get to take another shower and wash this all off.

The speaker clicked on.

“Awake already, sweetheart?” I could see his voice in dancing colours in front of me. Reds and dark browns and black.

“Lemme go,” I mumbled.

“No can do, Michelle. I do have a deal for you, though.”

I deflated. “What?”

“If you tell me who Spider-Man is, I’ll kill you. It’ll be quick and painless.”

For a moment, the thought of death, the release from this pain, it was the best thing I heard. I could go back to my mom and maybe she’d want me and things wouldn’t hurt anymore and I’d be okay.

But whether or not he was my boyfriend, I wasn’t gonna spill jack shit.

“No.”

“Wow, really? For a second there it looked like you were really considering it.”

“No.”

“Come on, Michelle. Quick and painless. I’ll shoot you right in the forehead, you won’t feel a thing.”

“I want my dad,” I whined.

“Don’t be such a fucking baby. Put on your big girl panties and start spilling names.”

I shook my head. “You can put a hundred nails in me. The answer’s still no.”

The speaker clicked off.

A few seconds later, the masked one came in with a glass of water. He put it to my lips, and let me drink.

I realized halfway through the glass that whatever was making everything so trippy was probably in the water. I sputtered and stopped drinking. The man grabbed my face, squeezing my cheeks to force my mouth open, then poured the rest of the water into my mouth. I spat it right back out. Water ended up all over my thighs, and dripping down my chin. I glared up at the man.

“What’s in the water?” I asked.

The man turned and walked out.

\---

It was could’ve been hours, days, weeks since I’d been nailed to the chair. I’d fallen asleep a few times, been shocked more times than I could count, been given some more water a couple times, had some terrifying visions of my mother trying to kill me, or Peter spitting on me and telling me he hated me, of Dad kicking me out, telling me he never wanted me. I had no idea how long it’d been.

Then the man, the shorter one with the scars, walked into the room, holding a knife.

“You don’t know who Spider-Man is, do you?” he asked.

I shook my head, lying.

“Figures. Just another pretty face with nothing behind it. We can fix that, you know.”

He held up the knife, approaching me.

“Fix what?” I mumbled, confused.

“Your pretty face.”

He put a hand on my face, and tilted it, turning it around a few times.

“Alright, I think I know how to do this now.”

“What?”

“Well, you see, Spider-Man gave me these scars, so I figure I’ll give you a few, too. Send him a message.”

I started to try to pull away, meowing in an attempt to get him to stop. He said it’d make him stop. He said all I had to do was beg, or meow, but he was still holding the knife a few inches away from me.

“Hold still. _Hold still_ or I’ll put another nail in you.”

I stopped wiggling away. He touched the tip of the knife to my skin, trailing it over my cheek until it found its way under my cheekbone. He flicked the knife towards the other side of my face, cutting under my cheekbone in a sharp, shallow line. I bit my lip, trying not to cry out in pain. It stung like a bitch. He tilted my head the other way, and did the same thing to my other cheek.

Blood flowed down my face, hot and thick on my skin. More blood that would probably dry up and cake on my skin. More blood that I’d never get the chance to wash off.

Part of me didn’t even care about that anymore. I just wanted it to stop hurting.

He moved the knife to my hand, sliding the blade under the head of the nail. He slowly levered it out of my hand. My head fell back, and I whined, high-pitched and desperate. He pulled the nail out, and let it drop to the floor. It clattered against the concrete.

“Stop,” I implored, my voice breaking. “Please, stop. It- it hurts.”

He gave me an evil smirk, then moved to my other hand, sliding the blade under the head of the nail again.

I meowed, urgently. He pried that one out slower. I bit my lip and squeezed my eyes shut, until I tasted blood in my mouth.

He dropped that one, too, kicking it aside.

“You said- you said if I-I begged or meowed, you’d- you’d stop.”

“Clearly not a man of my word, then, am I?”

He grabbed me by the hair at the nape of my neck, and yanked, pulling my head back, exposing my throat.

“Please. Please, I- I can’t take it.”

“Then tell me what you know.”

“I don’t know who he is!”

He nicked under my ear. “Try again.”

“Please, I don’t know anything.”

He nicked again, closer to my shoulder. “Again, sweetheart.”

“I- I swear, I know nothing.”

He pressed the knife into my skin and dragged, slowly, cutting from just underneath my chin to the base of my neck. I breathed shallowly, trying not to breathe too deep, in case the knife sank deeper. “One more time, and then I carve out your eyes.”

Sirens started blaring in the building. His head snapped up, and he let go of my hair.

“Code Red,” came the robotic voice from the speaker. “Code Red. There is an intruder. Code Red. Code Red.”

“Shit,” he mumbled. He turned back to me, eyes narrowing. “Good thing you don’t know my name, huh, sweetheart?”

And then he drove the knife into my stomach, the knife sliding between my ribs. I screamed for what felt like the millionth time.

He left the knife in, turning around and running out the door.

I couldn’t breathe. The knife had definitely punctured a lung.

And then a familiar skin-tight red suit came in through the door.

“MJ, oh my god. Okay, here, I’ve got you.” It felt so good to hear Peter’s voice, hear him call me MJ. Michelle had been grating on my nerves.

Peter came over to the chair, untying the ropes around my wrists.

“No,” I mumbled. “You have to go. He’s looking for you.”

“I don’t care, MJ, you’re hurt.”

I blinked. “No, go. Leave me here. You don’t want me anyways.”

“Yes, I do.”

He got the first hand free, and started working on the second.

I used my now-free hand to try to push his away, but it sent a spike of pain through my hand. “Stop. No, stop, you have to go. You’re not safe here.”

“Neither are you.”

“Leave me here,” I pleaded. “I’m not worth it.”

He didn’t look at me, fingers furiously working at the knot.

I made an impulsive decision. I wrapped the fingers of my free hand around the handle of the knife, and yanked it out. I let out a shout as I did.

“MJ!”

I dropped the knife on the ground.

“Go. I’m good as dead. Go.”

I could feel my lung capacity getting smaller and smaller as one filled up with blood.

Peter grabbed the knife and cut the rest of the ropes off of me, then slid his arms under me, one behind my back, one under my knees.

“Don’t- don’t-”

“I have to. I’m sorry, MJ, but this is gonna hurt.”

“No, no no no-”

He lifted me, and I cried out.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. We gotta go.”

He carried me out the door, and up a flight of dark stairs. I closed my eyes, turning my face into his chest.

“Is she awake?” It was Uncle Rhodes voice. I opened my eyes and turned my head. I couldn’t quite tell where we were, but there were windows. It was dark outside.

“MJ!” That was Dad’s voice. I heard his blasters power down and he ran over. “Peter, give her to me.”

“No!” I wailed. “No, please, it’ll hurt.”

Peter held me tighter to his chest.

“Take her out to Dr. Cho’s van,” Dad ordered. “Now, kid.”

Every running step sent a jolt through my body, causing me to whimper in pain. I was sweaty and shaky and everything was trippy and I was caked in my own blood, but I was getting out of here. I was going home.

I didn’t know why I’d been rescued, but I was so grateful.

Peter and I were out in the street now. I looked around. Street lamps seemed to be waving in the wind. The air was fresh and cool on my face. I tried to breathe in, but my chest constricted.

A van pulled up in front of us, back doors opening.

“Get in.”

Peter climbed in, clutching me tight against him. He laid me down, slowly, apologizing to me as I whined in pain.

Dr. Cho and two other doctors restrained me and started to clean my wounds. She shone a light in my eyes. “Her pupils are extremely dilated. That, combined with the tremors and fever-”

I tuned out. I was staring at Peter.

“I got blood on your suit,” I whispered.

He looked down, then looked back at me.

“MJ, it’s fine, I can always-”

I was already panicking. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, Peter-”

“I know. It’s okay. It’s okay.” He pulled off his mask, and then looked at Dr. Cho. “Is there anything I can do?”

Dr. Cho hesitated. “We can’t give her any anesthetic because we don’t know exactly what she’s been drugged with, so we can’t predict the effects, but we need to pull this nail out of her and get as much fluid out of her as possible. Give her your hand.”

Peter pushed some hair away from my face, and then gave me his hand. I refused to hold it. I wasn’t about to hurt his hand, not if I could help it.

Dr. Cho pushed a needle into my chest, and started to pull out blood. One doctor started an IV. Another doctor rinsed out my stab wound with solution. It stung like hell, so I pressed my lips together and closed my eyes, refusing to squeeze Peter’s hand or make any noise. I couldn’t be a bother if I wanted them to keep me around. The van started to move,

I could hear Uncle Rhodey’s and my dad’s voices outside the van, then they got in the front, and we started to drive.

“How’s she holding up, Peter?” Dad asked.

“She’s doing good,” Peter responded. “Really good.”

Once Dr. Cho had finished pulling fluid out of my lungs, she moved onto the stab wound. The three doctors got to work performing surgery on the wound. I gritted my teeth, and curled my toes, but didn’t squeeze Peter’s hand. Peter put his hand, the one that wasn’t next to mine, on my shoulder, and starting rubbing circles into my skin. I moaned, unintentionally, leaning into his touch.

“Hey, you’re doing amazing, okay?” he told me softly. “I’d be screaming bloody murder.” He paused. “Do you want me to press harder?”

I nodded, and his thumb pressed into my muscle more, circles working through the knots.

I did everything I could to block out the feeling of metal instruments poking around in my lung, but it started to become too much to bear. I whined, biting my lip, my eyes filling with tears.

“Squeeze my hand.”

I shook my head. “No.”

“Come on, MJ, it’ll help.”

There were tears streaming out of my eyes, now, going past my temples and into my hair. “I don’t- I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“I don’t care, MJ. You have a nail in your stomach, I can handle you squeezing my hand.”

I looked at him for reassurance. “You won’t hate me?”

“What? No. No, I’m not gonna hate you.”

I closed my eyes and wrapped my hand around two of his fingers, and squeezed. It hurt my hand like hell, and I knew I was getting blood on the suit, but I couldn’t take the pain anymore. I squeezed as hard as I could, focusing my energy into that rather than the surgery taking place.

“MJ, MJ, look at me.” I opened my eyes. “You’re allowed to scream or shout if you need to.”

“I’m- I’m okay.”

He leaned forward, pressing his lips to my forehead.

I wanted to pull away, to tell him I was sweaty and dirty and gross, that he shouldn’t kiss me, but I leaned into it, letting it distract me from surgery for a moment.

“You’re so brave.”

I shook my head.

“Yes, you are, MJ. I would’ve caved. Honestly, you should’ve caved. I don’t need my identity that badly.”

“He- he wanted to hurt you.”

Dr. Cho interrupted. “MJ, you have to stop talking until we stitch you up, okay?”

I nodded.

Peter kissed my nose gently. “I can handle myself, MJ, I promise.”

He kept rubbing circles into my shoulder, and I made myself focus on that, letting go of his hand when the pain got too bad to keep flexing it. Having a hole in the middle of your hand had that effect, I guess.

I closed my eyes and tried to focus on his hand on my shoulder. I could feel the scalpels and forceps and everything as the doctors cut and pulled at my insides.

“Stop fighting.”

The voice was my mom’s. I opened my eyes, and saw her standing over me, face warm and soft.

“Stop fighting. Give in. Then you can come with me.”

“You’re- you’re dead.”

“Who’s dead?” Peter asked. I ignored him.

“I am,” Mom admitted. She stroked my hair, and kissed my forehead. “But I’m at peace.”

“You’re not real. You’re not real. You’re not real.”

“Who?” Peter asked again. “Who are you talking to?”

“Of course I’m real, MJ. You can feel me, can’t you? All you have to do is relax, stop fighting, give up.”

“MJ, you have to stop talking,” Dr. Cho said gently.

I squeezed my eyes shut.

“I’m the only one in this van that matters, baby. I can help you. You won’t feel pain anymore, I promise.”

I shook my head.

“MJ, please, I’ve missed you so much. I want my baby girl back.”

I shook my head again, wishing I could shake her away.

She growled, and I opened my eyes, scared. “You’re such a selfish bitch, Michelle. Always have been. You and Tony are perfect for each other.” Mom put her hands around my throat, and I closed my eyes, screaming. I could feel it. I could feel her hands around my neck, but they didn’t squeeze. And then the feeling disappeared, suddenly.

I kept screaming. I couldn’t stop, now that I’d started. Everything hurt too much. The nail in my stomach, the wound in my chest, the holes in my hands, my head, all of it.

“Okay, MJ, we’re stitching you up now. You’re doing so well,” Dr. Cho said.

I let my head fall to the side, screams subsiding into shallow sobs. I could feel them stitching me up, and winced.

“Doctor Roberts, can you check her head while Doctor Stevens and I work on this nail?”

“Please,” I begged. “I can’t do it. I can’t do this anymore.”

The doctors all exchanged looks over my body. “MJ, we can’t stop treating you right now, you’re in critical condition.”

“But I- everything hurts. All of it. Just- just let it kill me.”

“Don’t listen to her,” Dr. Cho said, her voice dropping. “We have to keep going. We’re gonna save her.”

Dr. Cho and Dr. Stevens stood on either side of my midsection, while Dr. Roberts’ fingers moved through my hair. I whined whenever he pulled at matted sections, blood peeling away from skin. Dr. Cho and Dr. Stevens started speaking quietly, and then something clamped down on the nail.

“Okay, pull on three. One, two, three.”

I could feel the needle get yanked out of me, and I shouted, squeezing Peter’s hand. Dr. Cho and Dr. Stevens pulled off my leggings and started patching me up. Dr. Roberts had, in the meantime, found the laceration on my scalp.

“MJ, I’m gonna need you to be really still. I have to staple your scalp, and it’s gonna hurt like a motherfucker, but I need you to be still when I tell you to, okay?”

“Okay,” I whimpered.

“We’re doing four staples. You only have to do this four times. Are you ready for the first one?”

“Mhm.”

“Three, two, one.”

The stapler he was using made the same sound as the nail gun. I cried out as the metal pierced my skin, panting afterwards.

“How was that?”

I let out a sob.

“I’m sorry, MJ, but we have to do this again. Can you be still for me?”

I stilled my head.

“Three, two, one.”

I let out another shriek as he stapled my scalp, then let myself sob a couple times again.

“Just two more, okay, MJ? You can do this. Three, two, one.”

I managed to bite my cheek so I didn’t cry out.

“Last one. You’re doing so great. Three, two, one.”

I tried not to, but I screamed in pain.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry. But now we can patch up your hands, okay? So what we’re gonna do is bandage them up, and when we get back to the compound, we’ll put you in the Cradle and that’ll patch them up properly. Does that sound good?”

I didn’t answer, so he moved on, loosening the restraints on one of my hands, and wrapping it in bandage. He did the same to the other.

The doctors then cleaned as much blood off of me as possible. Dr. Cho gently washed the blood out of my hair, while Dr. Stevens and Dr. Roberts washed my cuts with damp cloths.

“Hey, honey, we’re about fifteen minutes away from the compound,” Dad said.

“I’m sorry,” I muttered.

“What for?”

“For screaming. For being a bother.”

“You’re not- you didn’t- it’s okay, MJ.”

I started to cry again. It hurt so badly, but it was all I could do.

_\---Peter---_

While she was in the Cradle, I waited outside the room with Mr. Stark and Rhodey and May. Pepper and Happy were in the kitchen, making her a smoothie for when she got out.

I could see her through the glass, face still scrunched in pain.

But we had her back. She was alive, which meant she could get better.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to unhear those screams,” Rhodey admitted.

Mr. Stark had tears streaking down his cheeks. “Me neither. God, I don’t think I’ve ever had my heart broken like that.”

I couldn’t even speak.

When she was done, she was put on a gurney, and Dr. Cho wheeled her out of the room.

“She’s all patched up, Mr. Stark.”

She was still awake, but she had that empty look in her eyes.

I wanted to take it all away, all eighteen days she spent in that basement. I wanted to take away every scream or shout or moan or whimper, every tear, every drop of blood. I wanted to heal her and make her all better.

I wanted to put the life back in her eyes.

Dr. Cho wheeled her into her own hospital room, and hooked her up to monitors and such, and then left the room, telling Mr. Stark and Rhodey and I that we were free to sit in there with her, as long as we didn’t excite or overwhelm her.

Mr. Stark and Rhodey sat on either side of me. None of us spoke, but Mr. Stark reached forward and held her hand, running his thumb over the back of his hand. She stared blankly at the ceiling, eyes half lidded and fluttering, rather than blinking.

Rhodey put a hand on my shoulder. “She’ll be okay,” he said softly. “She’s strong.”

It was silent for a few more minutes, and then MJ started blinking properly. She sniffled.

“Dad?” she whispered.

“I’m right here, honey.”

She pulled her hand away from his. “Why’d you guys come get me?” She turned her head to face him, eyes big and glassy.

“What do you mean?”

“You wasted resources on me. You should’ve just let me die.”

Mr. Stark recoiled a little. “No, MJ, I wouldn’t let that happen to you. It’s not a waste of resources.”

“Yes, it is,” she whispered. “I’m nothing.”

His head dropped forward. “If you believe that, I’ve failed you.”

She panicked. Her breathing picked up, and she desperately grasped for her dad’s hand. “You didn’t fail- I’m sorry- I didn’t mean to-” She was crying, sputtering, trying to backtrack and fix it.

“MJ, MJ, stop.”

She did. She stopped cold, face going blank. There were still tears on her face, but she didn’t move to wipe them away. She was terrifyingly still.

Mr. Stark’s heart broke, you could see it on his face. He got up.

“I need to take a walk.”

He moved to touch MJ’s hair, and she flinched. He jerked his hand away.

“Sorry,” he mumbled before leaving the room. Rhodey got up and followed him, leaving MJ and I alone.

She stared up at the ceiling again, blankly.

“I didn’t mean to,” she whispered. “I know I screwed up but I didn’t mean to.”

“You didn’t screw up,” I assured her. “Seeing you like this is just hard on him.”

Her brows furrowed in confusion. “Why? Did I do something?”

“No, MJ, he just- he loves you.”

She shook her head. “He doesn’t love me.”

I fought back tears. “Yes, he does. All of us love you.”

She was silent, clearly unconvinced, but she didn’t fight me on it.

I reached forward. “Can I- can I hold your hand?”

She hesitated. “You shouldn’t touch me.”

“MJ-”

“You have better things to do right now, anyways, Peter.”

“Like what?”

“Homework, ‘internship’ stuff, hanging out with Ned-”

“You’re the priority right now,” I told her.

She shook her head. “I’m your pity project. It’s fine, you don’t have to pretend.”

“You’re not-”

“That’s what they said,” she interrupted. “And they’re right. My whole existence is a mistake, and you only dated me because-because my dad is your boss, and-and you don’t…you don’t love me.” She pressed her lips together for a moment, closing her eyes as tears spilled out of them. “But I love you. So.”

“You’re not a mistake. And I love you way more than I can ever tell you. Do you know how many times I’ve wished that I could stop you from suffering?”

She didn’t answer. I stood up and moved, sitting on her bed. I cupped her face in my hand, wiping her tears away with my thumb. She leaned into it for a second, then pulled away.

“Sorry,” she whispered. “Sorry I’m so pathetic. You should- you should go.”

“MJ, no, I’m not gonna-”

“You should go.” Her voice was firmer this time.

I stood up, and adjusted the blankets over her. “Okay. Let me know if you need anything,” I said, knowing full well she wouldn’t. She squirmed a little as my hands brushed over her, fighting herself. She was so touch-starved, but she was still resisting leaning into it.

I had to fight my own urge to kiss her forehead, instead tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

You could vaguely see where she’d been cut. The Cradle had done a good job of patching her up, the cuts on her cheeks practically invisible, but the smaller cuts under her ear had scarred a little, the skin a little raised.

She caught me staring, and turned away.

I touched her shoulder one more time before I left the room. I found a chair and pulled it up, deciding on waiting right outside her door.

“FRIDAY?” I asked, keeping my voice quiet so MJ didn’t hear me.

“Yes, Peter?”

“Can you let me know when she falls asleep?”

“Sure, Peter.”

So I waited, patiently, trying not to fixate on her.

If we ever found Mac, I was gonna _kill_ him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't get too comfortable with the idea of mj being home safe and sound ;)


	4. recover me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cry warning for this chapter lol (or maybe i'm just a soft bitch idk)

_\---Peter---_

“She’s asleep, Peter.”

I got up and went back into her room. She looked uncomfortable, squirming under the blankets, face scrunched up, breathing uneven. She was having a nightmare.

I sat on the bed and brushed a few strands of hair away from her face. As my fingers grazed over her face, it relaxed. I held her face in my hand, running my thumb back and forth over her cheekbone. She stopped wiggling, and turned her face into my hand, whining quietly.

Her stomach was growling angrily, a painful reminder that she hadn’t eaten in almost three weeks. I knew the IV Dr. Cho had hooked up was giving her nutrients, but it wasn’t going to solve the hunger problem.

I wondered if she’d let me feed her, when she’d barely let me touch her when she was awake. But she couldn’t not eat. She was terrifyingly skinny. When we were in the van on the way back to the compound, I was able to count her ribs without touching her. Even now, her cheekbones were too prominent, her collarbones were protruding, and her shoulders were bony. Her body fat percentage had to be way below what was healthy. It was chilling to see her like this.

“Peter,” she mumbled. For a second, I was scared she’d woken up, but she was just talking in her sleep. One of her hands came up, fingers loosely wrapping around my wrist, like she was scared I was going to pull away.

“I’m right here,” I whispered, unsure if she could even hear me. “I’m not leaving.”

Her brows furrowed. I leaned over and kissed her forehead, hoping that’d relax her. Instead, her hands landed on my chest, pushing me off. When I looked back at her, her eyes were wide open, terrified.

“It’s just me,” I said, hurriedly, and she started to calm down. I moved to touch her face again, but she flinched away. “I’m sorry.”

She shook her head, refusing to look at me. “It’s fine.”

Her stomach growled again. I stood up. “I’m gonna go get you food. Any requests?”

“I’m not hungry,” she lied, “you don’t have to get me anything.”

“MJ, you’re starving.”

She didn’t respond, instead staring blankly at the wall.

I left the room and headed to the kitchen. Mr. Stark was at the counter, working on his laptop.

“Are there any frozen berries?” I asked, pulling out the blender. “I’m gonna make MJ a smoothie.”

Mr. Stark nodded. “That’s a good idea. Dr. Cho said no solids for a few days, but she’s been given some water and should be fine for a smoothie. She likes pineapple and strawberry,” he mentioned, like I hadn’t made her a million smoothies before.

“Pineapple might be hard on her stomach.”

“Use banana, then.”

I checked in the freezer. There was a frozen berry mix and some frozen bananas, pre-chopped. I started throwing ingredients in the blender. Mr. Stark closed his laptop, standing up. “I’m gonna go check on her,” he said.

“She’s, um, a little upset,” I told him. “She was having a nightmare.”

He stared at me, and then nodded once. “Okay. Thanks, Peter.”

He left the kitchen.

I finished making the smoothie, then found her reusable crazy straw in one of the drawers. It was a stupid gag gift I got her a few months ago, but she used it constantly. I was hoping it’d cheer her up. I poured it into a small glass (refrigerating the rest of the smoothie for later), stuck the straw in, and brought it back to the medical wing.

Mr. Stark was sitting on the bed, talking quietly to her. She was teary-eyed and leaning towards him, put recoiled when he tried to touch her.

“-I’m not going to hurt you, honey, I promise.”

Right. Of course that’s why she was scared of us. She’d spent the last three weeks associating human touch with pain.

I knocked on the door frame, and they both turned to face me.

“I, uh, I brought you a smoothie, MJ.”

She looked at it skeptically. I remembered that anything she’d been given recently was drugged.

“Mr. Stark, can I-?”

“Right, right.” He got off the bed, sitting in a chair by her bed instead. I took his place on the bed, holding out the glass. She pulled away.

“There’s nothing in it, MJ. Just berries and bananas and yogurt.”

She stared at it.

I took a sip. “See? It’s fine.” I held it out for her, and she reached out for it. Her hands were shaky, and as I handed it to her, I didn’t trust her grip. I kept a hand on it, letting her guide it to her mouth.

“Thank you,” she said, taking a sip. She started to gulp it down, straining herself as she tried to drink it all in one go. I started to pull it away, which made her panic.

“Breathe, MJ.”

She grasped the glass tighter. I reached forward and gently pulled her hands away.

“No,” she whined, gasping.

“Just breathe for a second, MJ. If you drink this too fast, you’ll choke. I’m not gonna take it away.”

She caught her breath, then reached for the glass again. I let her have it again, keeping my hand on it, pulling away when she was straining. She drank the whole thing within a couple minutes.

“Okay, I’m gonna go back to the kitchen, I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Mr. Stark caught my eye before I left the room, mouthing, “Thank you.”

I gave him a small smile.

I went to the kitchen to wash the straw and put the glass in the dishwasher, then returned.

As I sat back down, Mr. Stark’s phone rang. “It’s, um, it’s Rhodey. It might be about Gargan. I’ll be right back.”

He stood up and left the room.

“Who’s Gargan?” MJ asked, frowning.

“That’s the guy who hurt you. Well, one of them. We’re still not sure who the other guy was, or if there were more people involved.”

“Why is- why is Uncle Rhodes talking to Dad about him?”

“Rhodey’s trying to track Gargan down,” I explained. “He disappeared when we set off the alarm.”

MJ didn’t look any less confused. “Why would you try to track him down?”

“MJ, he kidnapped you and tortured you. We’re trying to find him so we can punish him.”

I thought she’d relax, but her eyes welled up with tears. I moved from the chair to the bed, hoping I could comfort her.

“Don’t,” she said softly, voice breaking. Tears started to fall down her face. “Please, don’t.”

“Why?”

She sniffed. “It’s not worth the effort.” She dropped her gaze, refusing to look at me.

“What do you mean?” I asked. “Of course you’re worth the effort.”

She didn’t fight me on it.

“MJ, you know how worried we all were, right?” I pressed, keeping my voice gentle. “I was terrified you were going to die.”

She ignored me, fiddling with her blanket.

I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know how to make her feel better, I didn’t know what she wanted, I didn’t know.

“Do you want me to stay?” I asked.

“You don’t have to.”

“But do you want me to?”

She let out a choked sob. “I don’t wanna be alone again,” she admitted. I leaned forward, slowly, wrapping my arms around her. She cried hard into my shoulder, hiccupping and gasping for breath. I remembered how damaged her left lung was.

“Breathe, MJ, breathe,” I whispered. “Don’t strain yourself.”

Her arms were surprisingly tight around me, considering how weakened she was. “I’m sorry,” she sobbed. “Just- just- please don’t leave me.”

“I’m not leaving,” I assured her, rubbing my hands up and down her back. “I promise you, love, I’m not leaving.”

“Please don’t hurt me,” she whimpered. “I can’t take anymore.”

“You’re safe, MJ, I promise. I’d never hurt you.”

She slowly relaxed, her body weight falling on me as she did. I held her tight, letting her just take the time she needed to calm down.

She pulled away kind of suddenly, face scarily composed. “Sorry,” she muttered. “I shouldn’t have made you do that.”

“You didn’t make me do anything,” I told her quietly. “I’m here when you need me, okay?”

Dr. Cho came into the room, holding a clipboard. “Miss Jones, how are you feeling today?”

“Good. Better. Peter gave me a smoothie, and I’m not hallucinating anymore.” The difference in her voice scared me, too. If her nose weren’t pink and her cheeks weren’t wet, you wouldn’t know she’d just been crying too hard to breathe. She sounded absolutely normal, the same way she sounded when she answered a question in class, or gave a waiter her order, or told me what she ate for breakfast.

“Good, good. Any nausea?”

“Nope.”

“How’s your head feeling? Light sensitivity, dizziness, any of that?”

“A little light sensitivity, but it’s getting better.” I made a mental note to ask FRIDAY to dim these lights.

“How’s your pain on a scale of one to ten?”

MJ hesitated. “Two? I’m mostly just sore.”

“How are your hands? Any pain or shaking?”

MJ held them up, balling them up and letting them go again. “They’re shaky but I can still move all of my fingers normally,” she said.

Dr. Cho wrote that down. “We’ll keep tabs on the shakiness. I’ll be back in a few minutes to take some blood, okay?”

She nodded. Dr. Cho gave me a reassuring smile as she left the room.

I leaned forward, cupping her face as gently as possible, wiping the tears away before they dried on her cheeks. “Are you actually feeling that good?”

She nodded. “I’m all patched up, remember?” She held up her hand, which was lacking a hole in the middle of it.

I reached up and took her hand, running my thumb over her palm. “That doesn’t hurt?”

“No, it feels normal.”

I could just barely tell the difference between the artificial tissue and her own. The artificial tissue was just a little too smooth and soft.

“How’s your chest feeling?” I asked, still unconvinced that she was totally fine.

“Sore,” she admitted. “But I’m okay.”

“And your stomach?”

“It’s fine, Peter. The Cradle did a good job. Stop worrying about it.” She said it the same way she’d tell me to stop studying and go to sleep, but it was forced. A façade. She wanted me to stop worrying because she thought it was a waste of my time, not because there was nothing to worry about.

“Okay.”

Dr. Cho came back in with a little basket. “Alright, MJ, I need your arm.”

MJ obediently held out her arm, allowing Dr. Cho to take blood.

I felt like such a wuss, but after forcing myself to watch her get beaten for almost three weeks, I couldn’t even watch Dr. Cho take her blood. I turned away for a moment, until Dr. Cho said, “All done.”

When I turned back, MJ had a cotton ball taped to her arm.

“How was that?” Dr. Cho asked, putting her supplies back in the basket.

MJ forced a smile. “Definitely not the most painful thing I’ve gone through.”

Dr. Cho’s face fell a little, before she forced a smile, too. “I’ll be back later to give you the results.”

Mr. Stark returned, standing aside while Dr. Cho passed before coming inside.

He sat down next to the bed.

“How’re you feeling, honey?”

She nodded. “Good.”

He frowned, just for a split second.

“Does Uncle Rhodes know where Gargan is?” she asked, voice small.

“No, not yet, honey. We’ll figure it out, though, okay? He’s not gonna hurt you again.”

She looked worried, so I slipped my hand into hers, grateful she was letting me touch her again.

“I’m not leaving you, okay? If he wants to hurt you, he’s gotta get through me,” I told her.

“You’re who he wants to hurt,” she protested. “You’re not playing bodyguard.”

“He doesn’t know I’m the person he wants. You never told him who I am,” I countered.

“I still don’t want you to put yourself in danger for me, Peter!” MJ shouted. She immediately sank back, eyes going wide. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“Stop, MJ, it’s okay. You’re not gonna get punished for shouting.”

She pulled her hand away and dropped her eyes. Mr. Stark intervened, getting out of his chair and kneeling by the bed, next to her. “You’re okay, MJ, I promise.”

“No, I have to be good, or you’re gonna abandon me.”

“That’s not- MJ, neither of us are going anywhere.”

“But- but- but you didn’t want me,” she said to her dad. “You got stuck with me because Mom died.”

He sighed. “I fought for custody of you twice before she died. Only ever got weekend visitation. And I still have all the stuff from when you were a kid, before your mom died.”

She shook her head. “You’re lying. You never fought for me. You never even reported me missing, Gargan said so.”

Mr. Stark and I looked at each other, then I pulled out my phone. “MJ, your disappearance was front page news,” I said, pulling up a news article and showing her. “Plus, like, the whole decathlon team freaked out, and the group chat has been begging me for updates since I told them we found you.” I opened that, and scrolled through for her, so she could see how worried everyone was.

She chewed on her bottom lip. “But I’m not- I’m just… _me_.” She sounded so disgusted with herself, and it broke my heart.

“You’re amazing, MJ,” Mr. Stark said quietly. “You’re talented and smart and funny and we all love you.”

She obviously didn’t believe either of us, but conceded. “I love you, too, Dad.”

He kissed her forehead. “I know, honey. I’ll be in the workshop trying to track down Gargan, okay?” He stood up, gently stroking her hair.

“Don’t you have more important things to do?” she asked.

He shook his head. “He’s number one on the to-do list.” And then he was gone.

Once Mr. Stark had left, and it was just the two of us, I said, “FRIDAY, is it possible to dim the lights in here?”

“Bringing the lights to half power,” she responded, the lights coming down.

“How’s your head?” I asked MJ.

She smiled. “Better now.”

“Do you mind if I lay down with you?” I asked.

“Sure.” She scooted over, letting me rest next to her.

“Do you wanna call Ned and let him know how you’re doing? We can FaceTime him if you want.”

“He’s probably busy.”

“MJ, he’s Ned. He’s not busy.”

She smiled a little at that. “Okay. Can you FaceTime him?”

“Yeah, sure.”

I held my phone up, dialling him. He answered within a few seconds.

“Hey, dude- MJ!”

She smiled when she saw his face light up. “Hi.”

“How are you? Are you doing okay? What’s going on?”

“I’m healing,” she said. “Doctors patched me up. I have staples in my head.”

His expression darkened. “Dude, what? Why?”

She clammed up a little. “Uh, well-”

“We can explain that all later,” I said. “For now, though, MJ’s doing well. Concussed, sure, and we’re working on slowly reintroducing food, but overall, it could be a lot worse.”

Ned seemed to get it. “That’s good. I, um, I got you something, MJ, for when I see you again.”

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that-”

“Too bad, it’s done. Your present’s in your locker, for when you get back to school.” I could tell it was killing Ned not to tell her what it was. He was like that, he couldn’t keep a present a secret if his life depended on it. I always knew what he was getting me for Christmas, like, three weeks ahead of time.

She smiled again. “Thanks, Ned.”

“Of course, MJ.”

“Okay, we should go, because MJ’s not supposed to have any actual screen time because of the concussion,” I told Ned. “We just wanted to keep you in the loop.”

He nodded. “Yeah, thanks for calling me. Good to see you, MJ.” He grinned at her.

“Good to see you too.”

“Alright, bye, dude.” He hung up.

The conversation had actually put a smile on her face, however temporary.

“Peter?” she asked. “Can you stay and sleep with me?”

“Of course, MJ.”

“You don’t have to be anywhere else?” she pressed, staring up at me with those big, brown eyes.

“Nope,” I said, putting an arm around her. “I’m not leaving you.”

She nestled into my side, making herself smaller as she did. Normally, she’d spread out, drape herself lazily over me, but today her body was curled up. She did have one hand on my chest, fingers tangling and untangling in the fabric of my shirt, over and over, until she fell asleep, and her fingers relaxed.

A few minutes later, Dr. Cho returned with a clipboard.

“Is she asleep?”

“Yeah,” I whispered. “What did the blood test say?”

“Well, she’s severely anemic, so she’ll be easily dizzied or fatigued until we get her iron levels up. But the good news is that the LSD has worked it’s way out of her system, so if her pain spikes at all, we can medicate her.”

“Sorry, LSD?”

Dr. Cho nodded. “Yeah, she was given relatively low doses of LSD. There’s some long term effects I’ve discussed with Mr. Stark, so we’re prepared in case that happens.”

“What kind of effects?”

“Many LSD users experience LSD flashbacks, where you can essentially experience a trip again, even if you haven’t used the drug in a while. It’s just something to look out for, I’m sure she’ll be okay. They’re rare for people in her situation.”

Dr. Cho turned and left the room.

I looked at MJ, who was sleeping peacefully.

She was going to be just fine, no matter how long it took.

I kissed the top of her head, then played with her curls until I fell asleep.

_\---MJ---_

Peter woke me up, saying my name softly and running a hand up and down my arm.

I forced myself to perk up. “Hey.”

“Hi, sorry, Doctor Cho just told me to wake you up periodically, since you’re concussed. You can go back to sleep if you want.”

I blinked a few times. “I wanna take a shower.”

“The doctors washed you up before you were put in the Cradle,” he said, “you don’t have to worry about that.”

I wanted to explain to him that it wasn’t about being clean. I wanted to stand under hot water until my fingers pruned up. I wanted to scrub every inch of my body until I stopped feeling Gargan’s hands on me. I wanted to wash my hair and detangle it. I wanted to feel human again.

Also, I missed my shower. It was big and had massage settings and steam settings and a stone floor that felt good on my feet. I wanted to feel at home again.

But I didn’t want to fight him on it, so I just relaxed.

“I don’t know if you’re allowed to stand or anything for long enough to take a shower, but I can ask Doctor Cho if you’re allowed to have a bath.”

“Okay.” I started to move off of him, so he could go and get her, but he kept his arm firmly around me.

“FRIDAY, can you ask Doctor Cho to come in here for a second?”

“Paging Doctor Cho.”

Dr. Cho arrived in the doorway a couple moments later. “Is everything okay?” she asked.

“Everything’s fine, I was just wondering if MJ’s allowed to take a bath,” Peter said.

She hesitated. “A bath could risk infection, but if you’re comfortable with it, you can shower together. Peter, you’d need to be in there to make sure she doesn’t fall or anything, and don’t stay in there too long. But if you’re feeling up to it, MJ, a shower would be really good for you.”

“Okay. I can do that.”

She came over, taking the IV out of my arm and taking the pulse monitor off of my finger. “Alright, no shampoo or anything on your scalp, just water. And the second you start to feel faint, get out of the shower, okay?”

“My shower has a ledge in it,” I said. “It has a bunch of shampoo on it, but there’s room to sit.”

Dr. Cho nodded. “Then just make sure you’re sitting when you feel faint, alright? Peter, make sure she’s warm when you guys get out.”

He gave her a thumbs up. “Got it.”

“Alright, come back here afterwards for a check in, and then MJ, you’re free to sleep in your own bed tonight.”

I smiled. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” She left the room.

Peter started to shift. “Okay, let’s go upstairs and get you all showered.”

He got up, then helped me sit upright. I swung my legs over the side of the bed, onto the ground. I stared at my legs, which were skinnier than I remembered and covered in hair.

“I…haven’t shaved in three weeks, have I?”

“Well, I don’t think Mac Gargan was shaving for you,” Peter joked. “Here, I’ll help you stand.”

He held my hands, pulling me upright, then keeping a hand on my back as we walked out of the room. My legs were shaky, and I was unbalanced. I probably looked like a newborn deer, struggling to learn to walk. Eventually, Peter just slipped his arm around my waist.

“Sorry,” I mumbled.

“MJ, you’re concussed, anemic, starved, and haven’t walked in three weeks. You don’t have to apologize for being a little off balance.”

I stumbled, and he had to catch me.

“Okay, I’m carrying you.”

“Peter-”

He leaned over and put his free arm behind my knees, then lifted me. I wrapped my arms around his neck. “See? This is better.”

“I have to relearn to walk at some point.”

“Yeah, I know, but let’s just focus on getting you in the shower right now, okay?”

He carried me up to the residence wing and into my room, setting me down on my feet once we were in.

I didn’t realize how much I’d missed this room until I was in it again. I itched to sit down at my drafting table and paint, or go through my closet to plan outfits for school (which was half my clothes, half Peter’s and Dad’s sweaters I’d stolen), or pick a book off the shelf and sit in my nesting chair with it, or sprawl out on my bed and bury myself in the covers.

“FRIDAY?” I asked.

“Yes?”

“Can you put on my shower playlist?”

“Putting it on now, MJ.”

The music started to play from the speakers embedded in the walls.

“Do you want me to get out some clean clothes for you?” Peter asked. “Mr. Stark had all of your laundry done when we found you, so it’s all fresh.”

I smiled. “Can you get out sweatpants and one of your sweaters?”

He grinned. “Yeah, of course.”

I went into the bathroom and got out towels and turned on the shower, testing the water temperature with my hand. Peter returned a moment later with some clean clothes for me.

“I’m gonna grab myself a change of clothes, I’ll be right back,” he said, kissing my temple gently.

I sat down on the edge of my bathtub, waiting for the water to warm up. Peter came back a couple minutes later, setting his clothes down next to mine. He stuck his hand in the shower, testing the temperature.

“Alright, you ready?” he asked, helping me up.

“Yeah.”

“You’re alright with me taking your hospital gown off?”

I nodded, so he started working at it, untying the strings for me. It came off easily, and then he helped me into the shower.

I hadn’t really realized how much weight I’d lost until I was naked. My ribs and hip bones were super prominent, and my arms and legs were like twigs. I looked like I could be broken in half by a breeze.

Peter stripped and got into the shower with me, his hands tentatively resting on my waist.

“How are you feeling so far?”

I stared down at my body. “I’m so…skinny.”

“Hey, it’s okay, we’ll work on getting you back up to a healthy weight over time.”

“I know, I know, I just…didn’t realize.”

He gave me a reassuring smile. “You’ll be okay. If you want, once you’re strong enough, I can do some weight training with you.”

It sounded absolutely exhausting, but I nodded anyways.

“Here, MJ, I’ll give you a scalp massage, okay?”

He slipped his hands into my hair, massaging away at my scalp. A bit of blood that was still matted at my roots rinsed out. He was careful to stay near the front of my hairline on the right side of my head, because of the staples, but at one point he massaged a little too hard and tugged at the skin. I yelped a little.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to, MJ.”

“I know.”

“You okay? I didn’t reopen the wound?”

“It doesn’t feel like it’s bleeding.”

“Here.”

He tilted my head, and gently parted my hair.

“Okay, no blood. We’re good.”

He moved his hands down to my shoulders, massaging gently.

“You know, I just realized we didn’t ask your dad if this was okay. He might kill me for getting in the shower with his daughter.”

I laughed, soft enough that it didn’t hurt. “You say that like he hasn’t personally handed you condoms before.”

Peter grinned. “I know, but still. He scares me sometimes.”

“He loves you,” I countered. _More than me_ , I added mentally.

Peter stared at me, a small smile on his face.

“What?” I asked.

“You laughed. That’s all.”

He helped me wash my body, holding me steady when I was determined to do it myself, and taking the soap from me when I ran out of energy.

“Okay, I need a razor,” I announced, rinsing the suds off of my body.

“You don’t need to shave right now,” he told me.

“Yeah, I know, but it’ll make me feel better.”

He shrugged. “Can’t argue with that. You’re sitting down for this, though.”

“Fair enough.”

I sat down on the ledge, and he handed me my razor and shaving cream. I lathered up my legs, and started to shave. My razor clogged with hair after every couple swipes, since the hair on my legs was so long, but Peter helped me rinse it out so I didn’t have to get up. It was a slow process, but it got done.

Once my legs and armpits were smooth, I rinsed off once more time, and then Peter helped me out of the shower, immediately wrapping me in the biggest, fluffiest towel. I sat down on the edge of the bath while Peter quickly dried off and got dressed, then he helped me dry off and get dressed. I braided my hair to keep it out of the way while it dried.

“Are you warm enough?”

“Yeah,” I said, pulling the sleeves of the sweater down over my hands.

“Anything else you wanna do to feel better?” he asked.

“Brush my teeth. I hate morning breath so much, and I’ve had it non-stop for weeks.”

He laughed. “Okay.”

He stood behind me, hands on my waist to hold me steady, as I brushed my teeth. He dropped his face onto my shoulder, pressing his face into my neck.

“I missed you so much,” he confessed, lips brushing over my neck. “I’m so happy you’re home.”

I smiled, tilting my head to rest on his. “I missed you, too.”

Once I was done brushing my teeth, I started pulling out skincare products.

“Are you serious?” Peter asked, sounding amused.

“It’ll make me feel normal, leave me alone.”

He laughed, kissing my cheek. “I love you.”

I tried not to tear up. I’d gone from hearing that phrase a million times a day to hearing the opposite or nothing at all for weeks. But my eyes welled with tears, blurring my vision.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

I sniffed, wiping at my face. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

Peter turned me to face him. “Did I do something?”

“No, no, it’s okay, Peter. I’m fine.”

He frowned, looking at me. “MJ…”

And I broke down, crying. He hugged me as tight as he could, squeezing the air out of me.

“I love you,” he repeated, seeming to understand why I’d started crying. “I love you, I love you, I love you, and I’m never gonna stop.”

I cried harder, which hurt my chest, but I couldn’t stop. I was so, so terrified of coming back and everything Gargan said being true, but being here, it didn’t feel completely true. Dad was doing the best he could to keep me comfortable and track down Gargan, and Peter wouldn’t leave my side, and Ned had looked so worried about me. I didn’t feel secure, by any means. All of this felt like some cruel dream, and I was terrified to wake up in the basement again, but so far I hadn’t.

My legs started to give out, so Peter slowly lowered us onto the floor, pulling me into his lap so I could keep crying.

“I don’t ever wanna be alone again,” I hiccupped. “It was awful.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“I-I don’t know.”

“That’s okay,” he told me, his voice quiet and reassuring. “Whenever you’re ready.”

He waited until I’d stopped crying, then helped me to my feet, keeping me steady.

“You still wanna do your skincare routine?”

I laughed, wiping tears away with the sleeves of the sweater. “Yeah, kind of.”

He held me by my hips as I went through the routine, washing my face, toning, moisturizing, the full nine yards.

Once I was done, and I felt a little more like me, Peter lifted me up.

“Okay, back downstairs to check in with Doctor Cho.”

I groaned. “I forgot about that.”

He chuckled. “You do sound more like yourself now. All you needed was a shower.”

We got downstairs, and went into Dr. Cho’s office. Peter sat me down in a chair, and then sat down next to me. Dr. Cho took my blood pressure, temperature, listening to my breathing and heart beat, asked me a few questions about how I was feeling, gave Peter some basic instructions, then allowed us to go back upstairs to my room.

One of the instructions Peter was given was to keep me warm, due to the fact that I was anemic and had no fat on my body, so when we got back up to my room, he turned on my fireplace, and made a pile of pillows and blankets for us to sleep in.

Dad came in while we were still making our little nest. He had one arm behind his back.

“Peter, do you mind if I steal a moment alone with MJ?”

Peter nodded. “Yeah, I gotta go get ready for bed, anyways.” He kissed my cheek, and then headed out of the room.

Dad came and sat in the nest with me, still hiding whatever he was holding.

“Doctor Cho said Peter helped you take a shower, did that help you feel better?”

“Yeah, yeah, I feel a little more like me.”

He smiled. “That’s good. So, Rhodey and Pepper and I found a few potential locations where Gargan could be hiding out, so Rhodey and I were going to, um, go out tomorrow to see if we can track him down, but I…wanted to make sure you didn’t want me to stay here with you. If you want me to stay, Rhodey can take care of it, he’s plenty capable.”

I was conflicted. The fact that Gargan had just disappeared made me nervous, like I was still in danger. But I didn’t want Dad to leave for the whole day.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. Then a wave of anxiety hit me. “I- I’ll make a decision, but-”

“Hey, whoa, it’s not a big deal, honey. How about I go out, and you can get Peter to text me when you want me to come back?”

The idea still made me anxious, but I nodded. “Okay. That sounds good.”

There was a slight pause. “Also, I brought you something.”

He revealed what was behind his back. It was an old teddy bear he’d given me when I was a kid, before Mom died. He’d had me for a weekend, so he took me shopping, telling me I could have whatever I wanted. I picked out the fluffiest teddy bear in the store, and named it Anthony, after Dad. Anthony was significantly less fluffy now, but it was still him.

I reached out, tentatively. Dad handed him right over, and I buried my face in him.

He still smelled vaguely of Mom’s house.

“I didn’t know you had this,” I whispered. I started to cry, for the millionth fucking time, but I couldn’t help it.

“Oh, honey.”

Dad pulled me into his arms and let me cry it out.

“I’m sorry,” I told him, “I keep crying and I feel like I’m a ten-year-old with a stubbed toe.”

“It’s okay,” he said. “Do you remember when I ended up in that cave? You were six, I think. I was overwhelmed as hell when I came back. I cried all the time. I felt like a little kid, too. And I felt like absolute shit, because I was terrified you’d be scared of me for having the reactor in my chest.”

I laughed through my tears. “Yeah, and then I thought it was a pretty light and asked Mom if I could have one in my room.”

Dad laughed, too. I could feel his chest shaking against my head. “God, you were cute.”

I wiggled out of his arms and wiped my tears away with the sleeves of my sweater.

“I’m gonna miss the sweater I was wearing the day Gargan kidnapped me,” I admitted.

He frowned. “What do you mean? The one that you stole from me?”

I nodded.

“Honey, it’s in your closet. I found it and your car keys when we raided the place.”

“You did?”

“Yeah.”

I threw my arms around him. “Thank you, Dad.”

“Of course, honey. Besides, I’m still banking on getting that sweater back at some point.”

I laughed. “It doesn’t even fit you anymore.”

“When have I ever let anything stop me?” He pulled away from the hug, kissing my forehead. “I’m gonna go to bed and let you get some rest. Lemme know if you need anything, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I love you, MJ.”

“I love you, too, Dad.”

He got up and left the room. I hugged Anthony to my chest, sitting in the nest, waiting for Peter to return.

He did, a couple minutes later, holding a glass of water

“Sorry I took so long, I wanted to get you water, but Doctor Cho had strict instructions about it.”

I smiled, taking the glass from his hand. My hands were still shaky and weak, so he kept one hand on the glass like he had with the smoothie.

The water was room temperature and sweet, because Dr. Cho had been adding glucose to my water. I drank it, slowly, so Peter didn’t pull it away. When I was done, he got up and put it on my desk.

“I’ll take that downstairs when we get up.”

He nestled into the next with me, spooning me.

“You’re comfortable? Not too hot?”

“I’m okay. You’re probably boiling, though.”

“It’s okay, I can get up and cool off a little if I get too hot.”

I figured there was no use arguing with him, and let myself relax. He pressed a kiss to my neck, and then settled in, arms tight around my midsection.

This was the safest I’d felt in almost a month, and it felt so good.


	5. panic mode

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> panic attack warning?? it's fairly mild but idk if that triggers you take appropriate precautions

_\---MJ---_

Dr. Cho had me come in for a check up again the next morning. I was allowed to drink water, juice, and a little bit of smoothie, but no solids yet. She checked up on my lungs and then on my lower stomach, making sure everything was okay.

“I have a question,” I said, as she was feeling my stomach.

“Yes?”

“The nail went through my uterus, right?”

She nodded.

“So…will I be able to have kids?” I asked. “Like, way down the line.”

She nodded again. “Uterine perforation isn’t that uncommon. You’ll be perfectly fine, MJ.”

“Really?”

She smiled comfortingly. “There’s no fertility effects, no added risk of uterine rupture, nothing. And you’re not hemorrhaging or infected, so I’m pretty confident you’re gonna make a full recovery. Stick to the diet plan, though, we don’t need the complication of refeeding syndrome.”

I nodded. “Got it.”

She finished the check up, and then let me go to the kitchen to get some juice. Peter had waited outside the office for me, so he kept a hand on my back as we walked to the kitchen. I did stumble and have to lean into Peter a couple times, but he didn’t have to pick me up, so I felt a little triumphant.

Peter made me sit down at the counter while he poured me a glass of orange juice.

“You still feeling okay?” he asked, putting the glass down in front of me.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good. Ridiculously tired for someone who just walked, like, thirty feet, but I’m okay.”

He smiled. “That’s a good sign.”

Dad came back into the kitchen, wearing his detachable arc reactor.

“Hey, honey, how’d the check up go?”

“Really well,” I said.

“Doctor Cho said you can probably go back to school in a week,” he told me.

Uncle Rhodes came into the kitchen.

“Hey, kiddo, you’re looking better,” he greeted, coming up next to me. “Little more life in you now.”

“She walked here from the medical wing,” Peter added, bragging a little.

“Wow, look at you go.”

“Okay,” I interrupted, “you guys know I love positive reinforcement, but you’re making me feel like a five-year-old right now.”

The three guys looked at each other. Dad shrugged. “That makes sense. Less positive reinforcement?”

“Just a tad.”

Uncle Rhodes laughed. “Yep, you’re definitely back to yourself.”

I had enough underlying anxiety to rival Peter, but sure. Back to myself. Totally.

“Alright, we should head out,” Dad said, checking his watch. “You sure you’re alright, MJ?”

“Yeah, I’m okay.”

“Call me if you want me to come home.” He kissed my temple. “See you kids later.”

“See you, Mr. Stark.”

Uncle Rhodes waved goodbye to us as he followed Dad out of the kitchen.

I tried not to show it, but I could feel my anxiety rising. I knew exactly what Gargan was capable of, despite trying my best not to think about it. The idea of my dad going after him, as capable as I knew he was, wasn’t super comforting.

But the idea of nobody going after him wasn’t comforting either.

I drank my orange juice.

“I need a nap,” I said, putting my empty glass back down.

“Okay, I’ll take you upstairs.”

“That’s okay, I can sleep in the living room. The couch is comfy.”

Peter sighed, stopping me as I got out of my chair. For a split second, I felt trapped, but then the feeling dissipated.

“MJ, we’re supposed to keep you warm, and the living room is always cold.”

I shrugged. “But I don’t wanna make you carry me up the stairs. It’s fine, I have a sweater on.”

I tried to get past Peter, and he blocked me, again. This time, that trapped feeling didn’t go away as easily. I could feel my heartrate quicken.

“Just let me take you upstairs.”

I hesitated. I wanted to say no, because I didn’t wanna make him carry me upstairs and turn on the fireplace and set up the blankets and everything again. I knew I wasn’t strong enough yet to do all of that on my own. But I didn’t wanna resist and be a nuisance.

“MJ, you look…scared.”

He reached out to touch my shoulder, and I flinched away, involuntarily.

“Hey, whoa, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong. I’m fine. I’ll just- I’ll be in the living room.”

I started to walk past him again, and he blocked me yet again. My heartrate jumped, and my stomach did a twist.

“You’re shaking, MJ.”

“No, I’m- I’m not.” Even my voice was shaky. God, I was a bad liar. “I just- I wanna lay down.”

He stepped closer to me, putting his hands on my waist. I knew he was trying to be comforting, but I was already panicking, so I jerked back. I stumbled a little, my legs threatening to give out, but managed to grab the counter and steady myself.

Peter backed off. “Okay. Living room it is. I’m sorry.”

I took a couple deep breaths, trying to calm myself down. “It’s okay, Peter, don’t be sorry,” I told him.

He let me walk past him towards the living room, then followed behind me, grabbing a couple blankets out of a closet as we went. I laid down on the couch, and Peter gently laid a blanket over me.

“Do you want me to leave?” he asked, brushing some hair out of my face.

I shook my head. “Not really, no.”

He nodded. “Alright. I’ll be in here, maybe the kitchen at the farthest. I’ll wake you up in a bit, okay?”

“Mkay.”

I turned over a little, so I was facing the back of the couch, and Peter sat down against the couch, next to my legs.

I fell asleep relatively quickly.

_\---Peter---_

Soon after she fell asleep, she started to move and whimper in her sleep. She’d panicked earlier when I touched her, so I was nervous about trying to touch her to calm her down.

But I hated seeing her like this. Face scrunched up as she whined, body shifting and wiggling, like she was writhing in pain.

I moved up, sitting on the edge of the couch, tentatively touching her shoulder. She didn’t react, positively or negatively, so I did what I’d done in the van the other day, rubbing circles into her muscle with my thumb. It was disturbing how little muscle she had now, in comparison to a few weeks ago.

She started to calm down, slowly, her body stilling and face relaxing. She still whimpered, though, turning her face towards the shoulder I was rubbing.

I was stupid to think that she was perfectly fine yesterday. Of course she wasn’t, she’d been tortured and isolated for weeks. She’d barely ask for water until she was on the verge of organ failure when she was locked in that basement, she wasn’t gonna ask me for anything. And she’d been told, over and over again, that she was worthless and unloved and annoying. Which wasn’t true, it was the farthest thing from true, and if you told the MJ I’d known a month ago, she would’ve told you to shove it. But she’d been beaten and secluded and it was the perfect opening for someone to drill that into her brain and make her believe it.

 

She was still whimpering, leaning into my hand, so I got off the couch, gently lifted her head and shoulders, and then sat down, laying her back down in my lap. She groaned a little as I laid her head back down. I started stroking her hair gently, and she went quiet.

I stayed like that, gently stroking her hair.

About twenty minutes later, she woke with a start, sitting up and shouting, “Dad!” She breathed hard, trying to calm herself down.

“Hey, I’m right here, you’re okay. You can lay back down.”

She looked at me, eyes big and sparkling with tears. “I’m- I’m okay. You were on the ground when I fell asleep.”

“You looked like you were having a nightmare, I was hoping I could calm you down.”

She didn’t respond, moving over to the other side of the couch, leaning against the arm, pulling her knees up to her chest, and drawing the blanket up around her.

“I’m gonna go get you some water,” I said, getting up.

“Wait!” she grabbed my hand, looking panicky. “Can you…can you just stay for a moment?”

“Yeah, of course, love. Whatever you need.”

I sat back down on the couch, by her feet. She rested her head on a cushion, closing her eyes again. After a few minutes, I realized she’d fallen asleep again.

I got up, quietly as I could, and went into the kitchen to get her a glass of water. I made sure it wasn’t too cold, so it didn’t hurt her stomach, and then came back into the living room and set the glass down on the coffee table.

I sat back down and texted Ned an update.

Me: she’s recovering well physically but she’s still not quite herself

Ned: what do you mean?

Me: I’ve never seen her have a panic attack ever but I think she almost had one today

Me: she won’t ask for things she wants or needs

Me: she won’t really let me help her even though she needs it

Ned: how are you holding up?

Me: man I feel like a wreck

Me: all I want is my mj back but…

Ned: yeah I get it

Ned: I mean she was kidnapped and tortured for like three weeks, give her time

Ned: I’m sure her dad will put her in therapy when she’s a little healthier, that’ll help

Me: I just wish she’d let me help her now

Me: bc I know I can, she can’t sleep peacefully unless Mr. Stark or I touch her

Me: but she won’t let either of us in enough to help her

Ned: I’m sorry man this is really rough

Ned: is there anything I can do?

Me: idk maybe we can plan something with the decathlon group or something to surprise her when she gets back to school?

Ned: mj hates surprises dude you know that

Me: I know I’m just trying to think

Ned: tbh she’ll probably just wanna be treated normally

Ned: I’ll talk to the decathlon group about it

Me: thanks ned

Ned: of course dude

Ned: go take care of her okay?

Me: got it

She started to whimper in her sleep again. I put my hand on her knee, hoping it’d help, but it didn’t. I got up and kneeled next to her, but the second, my hand touched her, she screamed, jerking awake.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I said, trying to soothe her. She was breathing hard, and shaking,

“My chest hurts,” she gasped. “Can you- can you take me to see Doc-Doctor Cho?”

“MJ, I think you’re having a panic attack.”

She shook her head. “No, no, something’s- something’s wrong.”

“Okay, close your eyes.”

“Peter-”

“Trust me, okay?”

She nodded, closing her eyes.

I remembered the breathing exercise she’d talked me through a few times. “Breathe in for four, hold for four, breathe out for four, okay? I’ll count. One, two, three, four, hold, two, three, four, release, two, three, four. One, two, three, four, hold, two, three, four, release, two, three, four.”

She struggled, her hands balling up the blankets in her fists, but she breathed in and out as I counted.

“One, two, three, four, hold, two, three, four, release, two, three, four. One, two, three, four, hold, two, three, four, release, two, three, four. One, two, three, four, hold, two, three, four, release, two, three, four.”

She slowly calmed down, hands releasing the blanket.

“Here,” I said, handing her the glass of water. She started sipping at it, hands still shaking a little. “You feeling better?”

She nodded. “A little. I’m still tired.”

“Yeah, panic attacks can be exhausting. Do you still want me to take you to Doctor Cho’s office?”

She shook her head. “I’m okay. Sorry for freaking out.”

“It’s okay, love, you can’t control this. Do you need anything?” I asked, knowing full well she wouldn’t admit to needing anything.

Just like I knew she would, she shook her head. “I’m okay.”

I sat on the couch again, by her feet. “Do you want me to turn on the TV? I can put the news on, so you can catch up on what you’ve missed, if you want?”

She frowned. “I’m concussed, I’m not supposed to watch TV.”

“You don’t have to watch, you can just listen.”

“Okay.”

I turned on the TV and put on the news. She closed her eyes, listening.

“You can put your head in my lap, if you want,” I offered.

MJ’s eyes opened, giving me this saddened look. “But then you can’t move.”

I shrugged. “I don’t need to go anywhere, MJ.” I patted my knee. “You don’t have to if you don’t want.”

She shifted around, putting her glass of water back down on the coffee table, and laying her head on my shoulder. “Lemme know if you need me to move,” she muttered, shutting her eyes again.

I kissed the top of her head.

We listened to the news for a while before she yawned and shifted, pulling herself across my lap and resting her head on my chest.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, seeming to wake up a little. “I’ll move.”

“No, that’s okay. Don’t move.”

She settled in, arms draping around me, face turned into my chest. I wrapped my arms around her, supporting her back.

She finally slept peacefully and deeply. No strained noises, no shifting in her sleep, nothing. Just deep breathing as she slept.

After an hour, I had to wake her up, because of her concussion. I didn’t want to, in case she couldn’t fall asleep again, but Dr. Cho had explained the risks to me.

I kissed her forehead, and she shifted, but settled again.

“MJ,” I whispered, trying to wake her as gently as possible, “MJ, you gotta wake up.”

She mumbled something I couldn’t understand, and slowly blinked her eyes open.

“Hi, sorry, I’m up.”

“You can go back to sleep,” I told her.

She shifted. “I don’t wanna make you stay like this.”

“It’s okay, MJ, I’d rather you get some rest. Go back to sleep, love, I’ll move you if I need to get up.”

She looked like she wanted to protest, but just closed her eyes and nestled back into me. Her breathing slowed down again as she fell asleep.

It was cheesy, but I just stared at her. Despite looking pale and a little skeletal, she was still gorgeous. And it was nice to see her looking calm, too.

I rested my head on top of hers, closing my eyes, pretending for a moment that everything was okay. That she’d never gone missing, that she wasn’t traumatized, that I wasn’t terrified for her, that this was just a normal day in, napping on the couch.

“I love you,” I whispered, wishing she could somehow subconsciously hear it and absorb it and believe it. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t protect you.”

I started to doze off, despite telling myself I shouldn’t.

_\---MJ---_

I woke up to Peter’s lips pressing against my forehead.

“Hey, love. I fell asleep, so it might’ve been a little more than an hour, I’m sorry.”

I blinked a few times, squeezing my eyes shut and reopening them a few times. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

He smiled, pressing his lips to my forehead again. “That’s good. Your, um, your dad’s still out, but do you want me to call him back?”

I shook my head. “That’s okay.”

I was shivering a little, colder now that my blanket wasn’t really covering me anymore. I tried to still myself so Peter didn’t worry, but it was too late.

“You’re shaking,” he whispered. “Do you want me to bring you up to your room?”

“No, I’m okay. I’m fine.”

He wrapped his arms tighter around me. “You need to stay warm, MJ.”

“I’m fine,” I repeated.

He sighed. “Okay, executive decision. We’re going upstairs.” He readjusted his arms around me, and stood up.

He carried me up to the residence wing and into my room, setting me down on my bed.

“I’m gonna go get you water, okay?” he said.

“You don’t have to do that, I’m not thirsty.”

“Doctor’s orders.” He turned on the fireplace before leaving the room.

I wished I could go back to normal. Just get up and walk around no problem, be able to take a shower on my own, eat normally, sleep without having nightmares about being nailed to chairs. I knew I just had to rest and follow Dr. Cho’s instructions and eventually I’d be strong enough to do all of that stuff again. I just wasn’t sure if I’d ever be the same.

Dad was probably gonna try to talk me into therapy at some point. I knew he’d been going for years. I just didn’t wanna have to sit in a room with a therapist and relive everything over and over and over. It seemed exhausting and ultimately useless.

Peter came back in with a glass of juice. “Alright, drink up, and then you can take another nap.”

I sat up and took the glass. “Did Doctor Cho say when I’m allowed to start eating again?” I asked.

He nodded. “She said two or three more days, and then you can start eating a little bit at a time. It’ll probably be another week or two before you can eat normally again.”

I drank some of the juice. “I miss Dad’s omelets,” I said. “Did I ever tell you that when I was a kid, I wouldn’t eat eggs without hot sauce?”

Peter shook his head. “No, but Pepper told me once.”

“Of course she did, she thought it was the grossest thing.”

Peter laughed. “I know,” he said.

I finished off my juice and put the glass on my nightstand.

“Here, I’ll tuck you in,” Peter said, sitting on the edge of the bed. He pulled the blankets up over me. “Are you warm enough?”

I nodded.

“Do you want me to stay in here with you?” he asked. He reached up to push hair away from my face, but I flinched a little, so he just put his hand on the bed.

“Please?”

“Do you want me to lay down with you?”

I nodded. “You don’t have to-”

He was already laying down next to me, on top of the blankets. “Turn over, I’ll spoon you.”

I obeyed, rolling onto my side. One of his arms draped over me, one slid under my neck.

“Are you comfortable?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

He pulled me a little closer to him, despite all of the blankets between us. I listened to his breathing until I dozed off.

He woke me up a few times, but I slept for the rest of the day.

\---

“MJ.”

I blinked my eyes open. Dad was standing over me.

“Hi, sorry, you can go back to sleep. I just wanted to let you know that I’m home.”

I nodded. “Did you find him?”

Dad shook his head. “No. I’m sorry, honey. We’ll keep looking. Go back to sleep, I’ll be in the workshop.”

He left the room, closing the door behind him. I settled back in, trying to go back to sleep.

I was anxious now, though. Gargan was still walking around, probably still trying to figure out who Spider-Man is, potentially trying to figure out how to get his hands on me again.

“MJ?” Peter asked, his voice sounding a little groggy. “You’re shaking again.”

“I’m okay,” I told him, trying to relax.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“Not really. You don’t need to know what happened.”

He paused, then shifted, propping himself up. “MJ, we saw everything.”

I turned over to look at him. “What?”

“Gargan sent Mr. Stark a livestream link. That was the main way we tried to find you, by tracing the livestream source, but it was threaded through like a million different locations. We had to trace the email and livestream separately just to find a different location that was, like, a den that Gargan’s buddies were in, and that’s how we found you. But there was a twenty-four hour livestream. We saw everything that happened to you.”

I was mortified. He’d seen everything, the begging for water, the meowing to get Gargan off of me, the screaming. All of it.

“MJ, MJ, stop freaking out.”

“You saw all of that?” I asked, my voice breaking.

“Yeah, but it didn’t-”

I scrambled out of the bed, barely landing on my feet, and ran out of the room. My legs were still weak and shaking, but I was filled with adrenaline now, so I pushed through it.

“MJ!”

I booted it to the stairs, only making it down a few before something hit me in the back and stopped me from going any further. I turned to see Peter standing in the hall, web shooter in hand.

“Take it easy, love.”

“No, no, let me- let me go, Peter!” I struggled against the web, almost falling a couple times as I did.

“MJ, come back up so you don’t get hurt.”

He started to pull me back up by the web, and I gave in, going back up the stairs.

“Don’t- don’t look at me,” I said, voice coming out small and broken.

“Why not?”

“I didn’t think you saw any of that and-and it’s all…”

“Disgusting that they’d do that to you?”

“No, Peter, I- I let them- I let them break me and-and I did whatever they told me to and-”

He pulled me into a hug. “That’s not true. You’re not broken. And you didn’t do whatever they told you to, MJ, because you never told them who I am.”

“But you-you saw the thing with the…cat impression, and-”

“It’s disgusting, MJ, but you have nothing to be…embarrassed or ashamed of. They’re monsters. You’re just a kid.”

I started to break down, crying into his shoulder. He tightened his arms around me.

“You’re safe now, okay? And nobody here is gonna make you do any of that for things you need. I promise.”

My knees gave out, and I dropped a little before he caught me. He lifted me up until my feet came up off the ground, walking us back into my room.

“Do you wanna have a shower?” he asked, setting me down on my bed.

“I wanna disappear.”

He cupped my face in his hands, tilting my chin up so I was forced to look at him. “I know they humiliated you, but it didn’t change how any of us think of you, okay? You were just trying to survive.” He ran his thumbs under my eyes, wiping my tears away. “Does a hot shower sound good? And then we can sit in front of the fire place and maybe call Ned?” I nodded. He leaned down a kissed my forehead. “I love you, MJ, that hasn’t changed.”

“I love you, too.”

“Alright, stay here, I’ll set up the shower.”

He left the room to go get himself some clothes, then came back into mine to grab me a change of clothes. I went into the bathroom with him, trying to undress while he got out towels. My shoulders were too sore for me to pull my sweater off. When Peter noticed, he put everything down and came over, lifting the sweater from the hem and slowly pulling it up over my head. I bit my lip, trying to ignore the spike of pain on the left side of my torso.

“You okay? I didn’t hurt you?” he asked.

“I’m okay,” I lied, masking the pain in my voice as well as I could.

I finished undressing while he finished setting up. He tested the water one more time before letting me climb in. He stripped down as quickly as possible, and joined me inside.

“How’s your head feeling?” he asked. “Do you want me to give you a scalp massage, or is that gonna hurt?”

I shook my head. “Don’t. I’m okay.”

He gave me a small, sympathetic smile. “Okay.”

He helped me wash off, shave, and rinse through my hair. The water was nice and hot, and he was gently massaging my shoulders while soap suds rinsed off of me.

“Still worried about my dad knowing you’re in the shower with me?” I teased.

Peter shrugged. “I mean, we were told that you’re not strong enough for, uh, sexual activity yet, so I assume he’d figure out that we’re not really doing anything in here.”

I frowned. “Nobody told me that.”

“Oh. Well, now you know. No sexual activity for four weeks.”

“Gargan’s such a cockblock.”

Peter snorted, dropping his head as he laughed. “MJ!”

“What? I’m not wrong.”

“Let’s get you out of the shower so you can get your mind out of the gutter.”

He helped me out of the shower and wrapped me in a towel. When I started to shiver, he rushed to help me dry off, then dress me. I waited on my bed while he finished getting dressed.

“Are you warm enough?” he asked.

I held up my arms. The sleeves of the sweater he pulled out were way longer than my arms. “Yeah, I’m good.”

He laughed. “Okay. Do you wanna talk to Ned, or do you just wanna pass out?”

“You can talk to Ned if you want. I don’t really have the energy to hold a conversation.”

Peter stood in front of me. “Do you want me to call him so you can say hi?”

I yawned, holding my big, floppy-sleeved hand over my mouth. “Just text him and tell him I said hi.”

Peter laughed, taking my hands. “Okay, these sleeves are ridiculous.” He started rolling them up, biting his tongue between his teeth as he focused. Did he really have to be so cute all the time? He looked at the ring of thick fabric around my wrist. “That might be worse,” he chuckled. “Where did you get this sweater?”

I laughed. “I bought this sweater for you, like, a year ago. It was too big on you, too.”

He grinned. “It looks better on you, anyways. Everything does.” He tilted my chin up with his fingers, kissing me on the nose. “You want me to get you a different one?”

I shook out the sleeve, letting it unravel. “Nah, the long sleeves are fun.” I smacked him playfully with it, trying to act the way I used to. He laughed, rolling his eyes.

“You wanna go to bed?”

“Can we sleep in your room?” I asked.

He frowned, hesitating. “We can if you want to. Why?”

“It smells like you.”

He took my hands, and helped me stand. “Whatever you want, love.”

We went to his room. There were fewer decorations on the walls, since he didn’t live here, but it was roughly the same as mine. He pulled back the covers for me, and I climbed in. He climbed in after me, pulling me into his body.

“FRIDAY, can you let Mr. Stark know where we are?” he said to the ceiling.

“Sure, Peter.”

He turned onto his side, facing me, and slowly moved his hand up to my face, brushing hair out of my eyes. “You’re doing really great, MJ,” he whispered. “I’d probably be an absolute mess.”

I felt like an absolute mess, but I just smiled. “Thanks, Peter.”

He kissed my nose again, and then pulled me closer to his body. I nuzzled my face into his neck, slowly drifting off.


	6. through my broken bones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you're gonna love me, and then you're gonna hateeeee me

The next couple weeks, I spent recovering. After the first few days, once they pulled out the staples and started me on solid food, Aunt May made Peter go back to school. That meant more quality time with Dad, Pepper, and Uncle Rhodes. Dad practically stopped working while I had to do physical therapy to try to build up muscle again. He was always there, doing the physical therapy with me, helping me with whatever I needed help with. The first week, he made me every meal, and then the second week, I started cooking with him. Some days, I was an anxious, panicky mess, and I’d flinch constantly, and some days I felt like myself.

Dad started to try to talk me into therapy, telling me he knew of a few good therapists, and that I didn’t have to keep it up, just give it a shot. But I’d done a pretty good job of shoving it all down and blocking it out, and I didn’t want to try to dig it all up again. I was fine.

Uncle Rhodes, however, described my artwork as…gruesome. When I started to pull out my supplies again, I painted my nightmares. It was the only way I could think to cope with them other than talking about them, and I didn’t really wanna do that. They were all similar, though. Blacks and greys with splashes of blood red. They were all of me, in that basement. Some of them had Gargan, or the masked guy in them. In some of them, I was completely alone.

I started catching up on schoolwork, too. I’d been gone a little over a month, but I emailed my teachers, and got my assignments. Nobody made me make up any tests, which I was thankful for, but I had a pile of work to catch up on before I went back to school. So, on your average evening at the compound, you could find me in the kitchen, work spread out across the counter, generally with a smoothie in front of me. Dad usually tried to stay in the general vicinity. He said it was because he wanted to be available in case I needed help. I think he just saw the artwork of me alone in the basement, and realized I was terrified of feeling isolated like that again.

It was a Friday night, and Dad and Pepper and I had decided on me going back to school on Monday, so I was at the kitchen counter, working through assignments when Peter walked in.

“Hey, love,” he greeted, kissing me on the cheek. He glanced at my worksheets. “We covered that material today.”

“Am I really that close to being caught up?”

“Looks like it.”

He went to the fridge. “Are there any leftovers I can steal? I haven’t eaten all day.”

“Yeah, um, bottom shelf. Dad and I made a pasta casserole.”

He pulled out the Tupperware, glancing at it. “This looks really good. What’s in it?”

“Uh, peas, carrots, chicken, broccoli, and cheese sauce. Do you mind helping me with this problem? I’ve been stuck on it for, like, ten minutes.”

He came over and looked at it. “Oh, you missed a step.” He picked up my pencil and wrote in the step that I missed. “Does that help?”

“Immensely. Thank you, Parker.”

“Anytime, Jones.”

He leaned in for a kiss, but his stomach growled, and he pulled away, laughing a little sheepishly.

“Right. Food. That’s a necessity.”

He went back to the Tupperware and cracked it open, then found a serving spoon and scooped himself a huge bowl of pasta.

“Wow, do you think you’re eating enough?” I teased.

“Hey! Superhero metabolism here!”

I laughed. “I know, I know.”

He put his bowl in the microwave, and put the lid back on the Tupperware.

“Oh, sorry, did you want me to heat some up for you, too?”

“No, I’m alright. I already ate dinner, and I think Pepper’s getting cake for tonight.”

“Remind me to tell her I love her,” Peter said, putting the Tupperware in the fridge. I laughed.

He waited by the microwave until it beeped, then pulled out the pasta, dug in a drawer for a fork, then sat at the counter with me.

“Are you staying over?” I asked, keeping my eyes on my work.

“Mhm,” he mumbled through his pasta. “Mm, this is really good.”

I looked up and giggled at the smear of cheese sauce on his lip. “Peter, you’ve- you’ve got a little something.”

He licked his lip. “Stop laughing at me, it’s good pasta.”

I went back to my work, still kind of chuckling to myself.

“So, how’s it been here this week?”

“You act like you haven’t been on the phone with me every night.”

“I know, but I’ve been trying to keep those calls short so you can rest.”

What a considerate boyfriend. “It’s been good. Dad hasn’t been working, which means Pepper has to work a little more, but I think Happy and Uncle Rhodes helped her out a little, because she still spent a lot of time with me.”

“Have you been helping her plan the wedding?”

I sighed, putting my pencil down. “We haven’t picked anything. She’s very indecisive about this stuff. It’s very off-brand.”

He laughed. “Yeah, she’s the best at making choices. Not even a date?”

“Not even a date. But it’s alright, the longer it takes her to pick, the longer it gives me to catch up on schoolwork. It’s been a very productive week.”

“I can tell. Do you have any homework for the rest of the weekend?”

“This booklet is the last of it.”

“Does that mean we get to hang out all weekend?” he asked, sounding hopeful.

I smiled at him. “Yep. I’m all yours.”

He did a little fist pump. God, he was cute.

Dad and Pepper came into the kitchen. “Hey, Peter, you made it,” Pepper greeted.

“Yep. Wrapped up decathlon practice early to make it in time for movie night.”

Dad grinned. “Great. It’s my turn to pick the movie, so I hope you’re all ready for a cheesy rom-com.”

Pepper laughed, opening the fridge and pulling out the smoothie leftovers. “MJ, do you mind if I drink this, or were you saving it for later.”

“Oh, no, go ahead,” I told her, holding up my glass, “I’m all set.”

She poured herself a glass. Dad grabbed a bag of Cheetos out of the pantry.

“Are we still boycotting Doritos for putting Steve on the bags?” Pepper asked Dad, head tilted.

“Listen,” he said, ripping open the bag, “the man isn’t even a model.”

“Yes, he is,” Peter coughed.

Dad ignored him. “It’s ridiculous that he gets a Doritos deal and I don’t.”

“Dad, it’s because he has the waist to shoulder ratio of a Dorito. It was a meme, that’s why they did it.”

“Oh, I know, but it’s still absurd. He only has the waist to shoulder ratio of a Dorito because he never eats Doritos!”

“Okay, Tony, let’s let MJ finish her homework,” Pepper said, pulling him out of the kitchen.

Peter turned to me. “Is this what he’s been like all week?”

I laughed. “You should’ve heard Bruce on the phone with him, trying to calm him down about it on Monday. Honestly, Dad acts like it’s the end of the world.”

“I’m so sorry I left you here with him all week,” he joked.

We stayed there until I finished my homework and he finished the pasta. FRIDAY alerted us to do to the big dining room when we were done, so we did. There was a big cake sitting in the middle of the table.

“I could say that we’re celebrating your recovery and all of that, but let’s be honest,” Dad said, “I wanted an excuse to buy cake.”

I laughed. “Whatever works.”

We sat down, and Pepper started cutting slices. She cut bigger slices for Peter and I, telling Peter he had to feed his metabolism, and telling me I still needed to get my body fat percentage up.

“So, MJ, are you ready to go back to Midtown on Monday?” Dad asked, maybe for the fiftieth time today.

“Mhm.”

“Are you sure? Because I can call them and tell them you’re not quite ready-”

“Tony,” Pepper interrupted, voice gentle, “it’ll help her feel normal again.”

He looked at me. “I’ll keep Happy in the area, in case you wanna come home, okay?”

“Yeah, okay. I can live with that. It’s better than having a suit swoop in and drag me out of my math class and make me get in.”

“That was one time, and it was an emergency!” Dad protested.

“It was because you needed my opinion on a piece of art!”

Pepper gave him a scolding look. He sank down in his seat. “That’s an emergency,” he said defensively.

Peter stifled a laugh.

“I thought there was a nuclear bomb threat or something, not an auction closing twelve hours later.”

“Listen,” he said, sitting up properly, “it was a Jackson Pollock, and it looks great in my workshop.”

“And you paid way too much for it,” Pepper argued, taking a bite of cake.

Peter looked at me, a little worried, then said, “Hey, I got a perfect grade on my physics test.”

Dad snapped his head to look at Peter. “What? A perfect hundred?”

Peter nodded innocently, taking a bite of cake.

“Well, that deserves a crisp high five and another slice of cake.”

Peter shook his head. “Please don’t give me more cake, I’m already full.” He took another bite of his cake, and I laughed.

“It’s fine, once Pepper goes to bed, I’ll give you the key to the liquor cabinet.”

“Hey!” Pepper protested. “MJ can’t have alcohol, she’s still a little concussed.”

Dad laughed. “So your problem isn’t with me giving the kids booze, it’s with giving a concussed kid booze?”

“Well, I mean, they’re teenagers, they’re going to drink either way. I’d rather they do it at the compound when FRIDAY can block their drunk texts.”

I snorted. Peter knew from experience that my drunk texts were just me sending him artwork and whining that everyone is better at art than I am, and then sending puppy videos and whining that I don’t have a dog. Or, if I’m in a really good mood, I’m just ridiculously lovey-dovey.

“So is that a yes to giving Peter champagne and then MJ, like, juice?”

Pepper sighed. “Sure.”

Peter blushed a little. “Well,” he muttered to me, “this is gonna be embarrassing.”

Dad got up and went to the liquor cabinet. “Pepper, how are we out of champagne?”

Pepper scoffed. “Tony, do you not remember your three-day drinking binge a few weeks ago?”

I did the mental math. While I was…away, he’d gone on a three-day drinking binge?

“Right, right. Okay, rum and Coke it is, Peter.”

He poured Peter a drink and set it down in front of him.

“You know May’s gonna kill you, right?” Peter asked, picking up the glass and tilting it to see his drink.

“What she doesn’t know can’t hurt her. Alright, Pepper and I will be in our room, doing some, uh, ‘wedding planning’,” he said, adding air quotes. I rolled my eyes. “MJ, page me if he gets too wild.”

I laughed. “He’s not a wild drunk.”

Peter gave me a hard glare that screamed, _shut the fuck up._

Dad gave a nod. “Noted. Pepper, honey.”

Pepper went with him. “MJ, don’t let Peter get too drunk.”

“Got it.”

They left the dining area, leaving us alone with the cake and Peter’s drink.

“This feels like a bad idea.”

“Hey, no, this’ll be great. I finally get to see what you’re like when you’re drunk and I’m not.”

He laughed. “As long as you’re excited for this.”

I got up and started putting the cake away, stacking dirty plates and putting the cover on the cake. I figured one of the housekeepers would put it away properly. Peter took his first sip.

“You can’t taste the alcohol.”

“Yeah, that’s how to get alcohol in you, Peter,” I teased, ruffling his hair.

He rolled his eyes at me, taking another sip. I took the stacked plates into the kitchen and left them in the sink.

About thirty minutes and two rum and Cokes later, Peter was drunk. His speedy metabolism meant alcohol hit him faster and harder, so he had bypassed tipsy and gone straight to drunk. His voice had that lilted, drunken tone to it, and the kind of syncopated speaking patterns, too.

We were on the couch in the living room, watching _The Good Place_ , because that’s what Drunk Peter wanted.

“Why can’t I be as buff as Chidi?” he whined. “I’m, like, twenty times stronger than he is.”

I laughed. “I don’t know, Peter, but I still think you’re pretty jacked.”

He looked at me, eyes wide. “Really?”

“Yeah, you dork.” I kissed his forehead. “You’re, like, one of those guys you wouldn’t think is buff, but then you’ll take off a sweater and it’ll lift your shirt and all you see is abs and it’s like… _oh_.”

He smiled, a little sheepishly. “I did that in front of you last year hoping you’d see the abs.”

I laughed. “That’s adorable. I mean, it worked.”

He took the last sip of his drunk. “Can you make me another?”

I looked at the time. “It’s kinda late, Peter, we should just get you to bed.”

Peter pouted, giving me big puppy-dog eyes.

“Nope, it’s not gonna work on me.”

He made his eyes even wider.

“God, I’m weak. Okay, give me your glass.”

He grinned. “Thank youuuuuuuu.”

“Shut up, Parker, you’re killing me.”

I got up and poured him another drink.

“Last one, okay? We’re going upstairs.”

“Fine.”

I put the rum and Coke away, then helped him stand. He threw his drink back, put his glass down, and then looked at me.

“I’m ready to go upstairs.” He burped at the end to top it off. I laughed. “Don’t laugh at me,” he whined.

“Aw, baby, I’m sorry. Let’s go upstairs, okay?”

He conceded, letting me put an arm around him and guide him to the stairs. He draped an arm around my shoulders.

“Hey, MJ?” he asked, as we walked up the stairs.

“Mhm?”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

We got up to his room, and I made him brush his teeth.

“I gotta go get ready for bed, but I’ll be back,” I said, ruffling his hair as I left.

I went to my room and brushed my teeth, and as I was starting my skincare routine, Peter came in.

“Hey,” he said softly, wrapping his arms around my waist and gazing at me in the mirror.

“Hi. You know I was gonna come back, right?”

“Yeah, but I missed you.”

Good lord he was cute.

“I missed you, too, love. Am I allowed to get through this?”

“Mhm.” He rested his chin on my shoulder. I went back to applying my lotions and potions. He turned his face, kissing my neck softly.

“Peter, that tickles,” I mumbled, despite tilting my head to give him more room. He kept planting feather-light kisses. I went back to my routine, slapping on my last few products. “Can we go to bed now?”

He mumbled something I couldn’t understand, lips brushing over my skin.

“Peter.”

“I don’t wanna move.”

“I’ll play with your hair,” I offered. He perked up at that, lifting his head. “Alright, Peter, come on.”

I dragged him over to my bed, pulling the covers back. He laid down, so I crawled in next to him. He put his head on his chest, and slipped his hands under my sweater, wrapping his arms around my waist. I tangled my fingers in his hair.

“I love you,” he slurred, looking up at me with big brown eyes.

“I love you too, Peter.”

He smiled sleepily, then drifted off.

_\---Peter---_

I woke up with a mild headache and a bit of dry mouth. One of MJ’s arms was laying over my shoulders, and her other hand was in my hair. I wanted to go get water, but I didn’t want to wake her. She still needed the rest, as much as I knew she’d try to deny it.

I settled back in, shifting to get comfortable. Her hand moved in my hair a little, and she made this cute, quiet sound.

“Morning, Peter.”

“Morning,” I said, moving off of her. She gave me her sleepy morning smile. “Sorry if I woke you up.”

“Oh, no, it’s fine. You probably need water, don’t you?” she asked, already getting out of bed. She picked up a glass off of her nightstand and went over to the bathroom.

“Do you just keep glasses in this room now?”

“Yeah. It works out.” She turned on the tap, filling the glass up with water, and came back to the bed. I sat up, taking the glass from her.

“Thanks,” I said, before taking a sip.

She smiled at me. “You’re so cute in the mornings.” She kissed my forehead, then went to her closet.

Now that she was less skeletal and at less risk of hypothermia, she’d gone back to wearing shorts to bed. That did mean she was cold in the mornings, though.

When she came out of the closet wearing sweatpants, I realized they were mine.

“Why do all of my clothes look better on you?” I groaned.

She laughed, coming back to the bed. “I don’t know what you mean, Peter, I look like a beanbag chair.”

“No, you look annoyingly beautiful.”

“Annoyingly?” she questioned, raising an eyebrow at me.

“Annoyingly,” I confirmed. “It’s distracting.”

She laughed, again. God, it was good to hear her laugh. “Drink your water, Peter, and then we can go see what’s for breakfast.”

I chugged the rest of my water. “Let’s go.”

She pulled my out of bed by my hand, and led me downstairs to the kitchen.  When we got down there, Pepper was making pancakes, and Mr. Stark was sitting at the counter, at his laptop.

“Any progress on finding Mac Gargan?” I asked.

“Morning, Peter. Haven’t found anything yet.”

MJ’s hand tensed in mine. I squeezed her hand, trying to reassure her.

Pepper flipped a pancake. “MJ, if you don’t wanna go back to school until we find him-”

“That’s okay,” MJ cut in hurriedly. “I just…really wanna go back and feel normal again.”

Pepper nodded. “Understood. Pancakes?” She pointed her spatula at a growing stack of pancakes. My stomach growled.

We went over and piled a couple pancakes on plates, then got out some syrup and butter and dressed up our breakfasts, then sat down at the counter. MJ sat next to Mr. Stark.

“You guys sleep well?” Mr. Stark asked, looking up from his screen.

We both nodded.

“Peter, not too hungover?”

I shook my head. “I’m alright.”

We ate breakfast, the four of us chatting through it. I realized MJ still wasn’t quite herself. She’d smile and laugh along, but when she thought there were no eyes on her, her face fell.

I told myself not to worry too much about it. We couldn’t expect her to be perfectly fine, not after what she’d been through. It’d get better with time and therapy, if she ever let Mr. Stark book an appointment.

I thought about her first few days back, when she thought she wasn’t worth worrying about, wasn’t worth taking care of. This felt like the same thing, but she was pretending she was better and back to normal in order to keep the attention off of her.

I made a mental note to try to bring it up when we had a moment alone.

\---

That moment alone came in the form of a walk through the woods behind the compound. She looked adorable, bundled up under a sweater and one of Mr. Starks big puffy jackets, a scarf wrapped around her next, and big thick mittens on. Mr. Stark had insisted she wear layers, scared she’d get hypothermia again, and she’d rolled her eyes at him, but put it on anyways.

I waited until we’d been walking for a while to broach the topic.

“So, at breakfast, um, I noticed you were a little…less…happy…than I think you wanted us to believe,” I said softly, scared she was gonna get defensive. She just gave me a weird look.

“What made you think that?” she asked, trying to put up a front. But her lower lip was quivering ever-so-slightly, giving her away.

“MJ…”

Her eyes started tearing up, and she tried to blink them away, turning to look at the sky. “I’m fine, Peter.” She started to walk faster, but I was holding her hand, so I just stopped and pulled her back.

“Can I- can I tell you what I think is happening?”

She laughed humourlessly. “Sure.”

“When we first got you back, you wouldn’t let me do anything to help you. You’d sleep on the couch instead of letting me take you upstairs, you wouldn’t let me get you anything if you could help it. And I saw the footage, MJ. I know they specifically wanted you to believe you’re worthless. And clearly you still believe it, because you’re bottling up your emotions to protect me and Pepper and your dad from them.”

Tears started to spill over onto her cheeks. She wiped them away with her mitten, laughing a little. “It’s working, isn’t it? You’re not wasting time worrying about me. You went back to school and Pepper’s running Stark Industries and everything’s fine. Why mess with a good thing?”

“Because we love you, MJ. And we want you to be happy.”

She shook her head, dropping her gaze to the ground. “Why would you care?”

“Why would we stay up for eighteen days to try and save you if we didn’t?”

“Dad went on a three-day drinking binge because of me, Peter. Clearly I’m bad for you.”

I could feel my nose stinging, but I didn’t wanna cry and make her feel like she had to take care of me. “MJ, you’re not bad for us. Gargan is.”

She set her jaw and closed her eyes.

“Can you please let me in?” I asked, my voice breaking. “I just wanna help you.”

_\---MJ---_

“Can you please let me in? I just wanna help you.”

I realized if I kept pushing him away like this, I was either making it worse and ruining his weekend, or actually pushing him away. I didn’t want him to leave me. I didn’t think I could take it.

So I let go, letting myself cry. He pulled me close, wrapping his arms around me.

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled into his jacket. “I’m ruining our walk.”

“It’s okay, I’d rather you cry it out.”

I let myself cry for a couple minutes, and then pulled away, wiping my face with my mittens.

“Can we go inside and watch a movie?” I asked.

“Yeah, of course,” he said.

We went inside and went up to my room. I shed the layers of winter gear while Peter dug my remotes out of my nightstand and turned on the TV. I went to turn on the fireplace, then realized I’d never had the fireplace and the TV on at the same time before. Considering the TV was right above the fireplace, I didn’t feel like having them on at the same time was a fantastic idea.

I abandoned that idea, going back to the bed and flopping down at the end of the bed, sort of curled up on my side.

“Why am I so tired?” I mumbled.

“We were just out in the cold, and you’re still underweight and anemic?” Peter offered.

I laughed. “Turn something on, I’ll probably just sleep through it.”

He put on some new comedy special, then shifted, pulling me up next to him. I put my head on his stomach, and curled up.

“Scalp massage?” he asked.

“Yes, please.”

He gently ran his fingers through my hair, the pads of his fingertips finding places to press into. He massaged my scalp until I dozed off.

I didn’t sleep through the whole special. I woke up for bits and pieces. But I couldn’t tell you anything about it, if you asked. However, every time I woke up, he was still massaging my scalp.

I woke up as the special ended.

“I don’t wanna move,” I whined as Peter turned the TV off.

“We should go downstairs and get some food in you, love.”

“Nope.”

“Come on, MJ.”

I adjusted, laying my whole body on top of his. “Nope. We’re staying.”

He laughed softly. “You know I can just…pick you up, right?”

I kissed under his ear. “Will you, though?”

He hesitated. “I mean, this is nice and all, but you really do need to eat, MJ.”

I propped myself up on my elbows so I could look at him. I had to force my eyes open enough to actually look into his eyes, since I was still sleepy. He was smiling up at me, hands coming up and pushing hair out of my face (and ultimately out of his face, too).

“You’re doing a really good job of convincing me,” Peter breathed.

I closed my eyes, lowering my face a little to kiss him, but my stomach growled, and I hesitated.

“See? You need to eat.”

“Shut up and lemme kiss you.”

“Nope. Come on, love, time to go eat. I’ll make you mac ‘n’ cheese if you want.”

I groaned, rolling off of him. “Fine. But only if you put mozzarella in so it gets all stringy and gooey.”

He kissed my cheek quickly. “Always.”

We got up, me blinking the sleep out of my eyes, and went downstairs. I sat on the counter while Peter made boxed mac ‘n’ cheese at the stove.

“Do you want me to grate cheese while the pasta’s cooking?” I asked.

“No, I’ve got it.”

“I feel so useless sitting here.”

He looked at me, kind of sadly. “You don’t have to be useful all the time, MJ.”

He grated cheese and occasionally stirred the pasta. I fidgeted. I was used to helping Dad out around the workshop or the kitchen. I’d been doing that for almost two weeks. I didn’t like just…sitting here, staring at the wall.

Thankfully, boxed mac ‘n’ cheese doesn’t take that long, so before long, Peter and I were sitting at the counter, the two of us eating out of the pot.

“I know you’ve probably been asked this a million times, but are you nervous to go back to school?”

I hesitated. I was, but I didn’t wanna open that can of worms. I also didn’t wanna lie to him, though, so I said, “A little.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?” he asked gently.

I shook my head. “Not really, no.”

“Okay.”

We ate the rest in silence. I had to stop eating long before we were finished. I still couldn’t eat a lot without feeling nauseous. Luckily for us, Peter ate a lot to make up for his superhuman metabolism, so he finished the rest of the pot and put the dishes in the sink.

“So, what are you thinking? Back upstairs for another nap?”

I checked the time. “I mean, I’m not really tired, but I’ll take cuddles.”

He grinned. “Alright, I’ll take cuddles, too.”

We went upstairs, and he pulled me into his room.

“TV?” he asked, already turning it on.

“Can we watch _How I Met Your Mother?_ ” I asked.

He grinned. “Sure.”

He put it on and pulled me into his side. I smiled as he wrapped his arms tight around me.

We binged about half a season before I realized I was dozing off. I sat up, mid-episode, and stretched.

“I should go shower and go to bed.” He wrapped his arms around me again and pulled me back down. I giggled. “Peter!”

“You can shower in the morning.”

“Yeah, but-”

“But I didn’t see you all week and I missed you,” he whined, rolling on top of me.

“I didn’t say you couldn’t come with me, you dork.”

He froze, gears almost audibly turning in his head. “Oh.”

I laughed. “Come on, I’ll put conditioner in your hair.”

He grinned. “Okay.”

He rolled off of me, then helped me up. He grabbed a change of clothes out of his closet, and then we headed to my room. I grabbed some of my clothes from my closet, and Peter got towels ready and turned on the water. We undressed and got in.

“Oh, babe, you can turn up the heat,” I said, hitting the valve with the palm of my hand.

“I’m sorry, was it too cold?”

“No, I just like my showers to burn me alive.”

Peter laughed nervously. “I know, I just didn’t know if your skin would be too sensitive and I didn’t wanna hurt you and-”

“Peter, chill. It’s just shower temperature.”

His shoulders dropped a little. “Yeah, I know, but I wanna make sure you’re okay.”

I smiled. “That’s sweet. Shampoo?”

He grinned, handing me the shampoo. I squirted some into my hands, and started rubbing it into his hair. He closed his eyes, his lips turning up at the corners in a relaxed smile. I rubbed it in until his hair was completely concealed by suds, and then had him move into the water stream to rinse it out. I ran my fingers through his hair to make sure all the shampoo was rinsed out, and then squeezed some conditioner into my hands and ran it through the ends of Peter’s curls. He hummed softly, dropping his head a little as I ran my fingers through.

“Sorry, I know I’m supposed to be taking care of you,” he mumbled.

“It’s okay, Peter. I’m doing alright.”

He frowned. “Yeah, but-”

“Babe, stop worrying about it. Seriously. It’s just a shower.”

He looked at me with his biggest, saddest eyes. “But you’re still recovering.”

I kissed his cheek. “I’m perfectly fine. Here, you can shampoo me.” I handed him the shampoo. He squeezed some into his hands, and started massaging it into my hair. I sighed and closed my eyes, tilting my head to give him better access.

“How are you so beautiful all the time?” he asked softly. I laughed.

“Right, because I’m at my most attractive when I’m in the shower and look like a drowned rat.”

“Shut up, you’re gorgeous.”

Oh my god, MJ, just shut up and take the compliment. “Thanks, Peter.”

He massaged for way longer than he needed to, before rinsing it out of my hair. He put conditioner in my hair, too, raking it through my curls, trying to detangle knots with his fingers as he went. Once all the conditioner was in, I grabbed my little shower comb and started combing through the tangles.

“Sorry, my hair’s still a little tangled from…”

“Right.”

“Kinda tempted to just shave it all off.”

I was expecting him to protest against that, but he didn’t. “Honestly, that just means I’d get to see your face more.”

“You say that like I don’t clip my hair back or tie it up at school.”

“Yeah, but you always leave some in your face.”

I sighed. “Do you have to be such a good boyfriend all the time?”

He nodded. “Your dad is Iron Man, MJ. If I weren’t a good boyfriend to you, I’d get blasted with forty types of missiles.”

I didn’t realize he was joking for a second, and then forced a laugh when I did.

He frowned for a moment, but it was a fleeting expression, and he didn’t say anything.

We washed up, I shaved, we rinsed the conditioner out, and then we got out of the shower. I wrapped my hair in a towel, and dried off. As Peter was drying off, he looked at my pile of clean clothes.

“You know, I’ve been looking for that shirt since winter break.”

I laughed. “Sorry. I thought I told you I stole it.”

“You might’ve,” he said with a shrug, pulling his boxers on. “I’m kinda dumb and forgetful.”

“Peter, you’re the smartest guy in our grade.”

“That’s not true-”

“You have a ninety-eight overall average.”

He hesitated. “Yeah, but I’m still a dumbass.”

“Okay, fine. But you’re my dumbass, so you’re not allowed to call yourself a dumbass.”

He rolled his eyes, despite smiling. “Whatever pleases you, Your Majesty.”

We finished getting ready for bed, and then crawled under my covers. He spooned me, pressing soft kisses over my shoulder.

“You’re shivering. Do you want me to turn on the fireplace?”

“No, I’m okay. I’ll warm up.”

“MJ-”

“I’m okay,” I repeated, half-turning my head to see him. “Goodnight, Peter.”

“Goodnight, love.”

He pressed one more kiss behind my ear, and then settled in behind me, pulling me right up against him and wrapping his arms around me, as tightly as he could without squeezing the air out of me. I slept deeply and peacefully, all night long.

_\---Peter---_

I woke up when it was still dark. MJ was sleeping peacefully, ribs expanding and contracting slowly as she breathed. Her hair was tickling my face, so I adjusted a little, shifting up in the bed so her head was under my chin. She groaned softly, snuggling into me. I smiled.

“I love you,” I whispered, kissing the top of her head. She hummed quietly.

I hugged her closer to my body and let myself drift back to sleep.

\---

She shifted in my arms, waking me up. I scrunched up my face.

“Oh, sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to wake you up. I just wanted water, you can go back to sleep.” She started to sit up, and I pulled her back down. She giggled, falling on top of me.

“Stay for a second,” I mumbled, burying my face in her hair.

“My mouth is so dry, Peter, just give me a second.”

Reluctantly, I let her go. She pressed a soft kiss to my forehead, and then got up. I watched her head into her bathroom, fill a glass with water, and chug it all. When she headed back into the bedroom, she smiled at me.

“You look so sleepy.”

I laughed. “I _am_ sleepy.”

She crawled back into bed. “Well, I am perfectly alright with a little bit of cuddling to start the day.”

I grinned, wrapping my arms tight around her and kissing her nose. “Good.”

She giggled a little as she snuggled into me, tucking her head under my chin. I could feel her breath across my neck.

“You’re so warm,” she mumbled, lips brushing over my skin.

“Are you cold? I can turn on the fireplace.”

“No, no, I’m fine. This is good.”

I pulled the blankets up around us tighter. “You’re sure?”

She laughed softly. “I’m okay, Peter. I’m not, like, eighty pounds anymore.”

“Is that what you weighed?” I asked, shocked. She laughed again.

“No, I was, like, one oh five.”

“And what are you up to now?”

She hesitated. “Uhh, one twelve, I think?”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah, my ribs are less visible, which is nice.”

I hugged her tighter. “I’m just glad you’re not dangerously underweight and starving.”

We laid there for another hour, nuzzled into each other. Then her stomach growled loudly, so I let go of her.

“Noooo,” she whined, clinging to me.

“I’ll make you breakfast, come on.”

“Peter, I’m comfortable.”

I rolled us over, so we were on our sides. “You’re still underweight, MJ. You can’t really afford to skip meals.”

She groaned. “Okay, you’re right, but I’m comfyyyyy.”

I started to pull away from her, and she gave me the biggest eyes and melted my heart. “Five more minutes?” I asked, giving in.

She grinned. “Okay.” She nestled back into me, humming happily.

I buried one of my hands in her hair, holding the back of her head.

“I love you,” she whispered. “So much.”

I smiled, kissing the top of her head. “I love you a lot, too, MJ.”

\---

The day was boring. We ate breakfast, then came back upstairs. MJ sat at her drafting table, drawing depressing scenes, and I sat in her nesting chair with my laptop, working on an essay all day. Mr. Stark brought sushi up to us for lunch, and dinner was Chinese food. As boring and uneventful as it was, I was happy to just spend time with MJ.

I had to head home after dinner because of school the next day. MJ walked me to the door.

“Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said, taking both of her hands and pulling her closer.

“Call me when you get home?”

“Of course.” I dropped her hands and put my hands on her waist, kissing her nose. She hugged me afterwards, arms wrapping around my neck. I hugged her tighter. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, okay?”

She squeezed me tighter, suddenly sounding scared. “Okay.”

“Are you sure you wanna go back to school tomorrow?”

“Yeah.”

“You sound nervous.”

She pulled away from the hug, wiping a tear off of her face. I didn’t realize she’d been crying. “I just…haven’t spoken to a lot of those people in over a month.”

“I know, MJ, but they still love you.”

She laughed softly, looking down. “I just…don’t want to be treated like glass all day.”

I cupped her face in my hands, forcing her to look at me. “You can always just tell them to treat you like you’ve just been on vacation. They all know you’ll want to be treated normally, anyways, okay? They’re your friends, they know you.”

“Yeah, but, I mean, if one of them was missing for three weeks, I’d be tip-toeing, too. It’s not- it’s not gonna be the same.”

“Have I been treating you differently?” I asked, raising an eyebrow as her.

She sighed, closing her eyes. “No,” she admitted.

“Exactly.”

“Yeah, but you’re just…caring. That’s just you.”

“It’s not like we haven’t been joking around or acting like normal, love.”

She sighed. “Yeah, okay. Okay.”

I leaned in and kissed her softly. She leaned into it, wrapping her arms around me, her whole body pressed into mine. I held her as tightly as I could.

When we pulled apart, she was smiling. I felt a little better, knowing I was able to put a smile on her face.

“I’ll call you when I get home, okay? May’s probably gonna want to say hi to you, too, anyways.”

She smiled. “Okay. Drive safe, I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

I kissed her one more time, just a peck, and then headed out the doors. When I got into my car, MJ was still standing at the door, smiling as me through the window.

I felt a lot better heading home this weekend than I did last weekend, just knowing she was doing better now than she was a week ago.

I texted Pepper, too, a little worried about MJ going to school tomorrow, knowing that Gargan was out free and knew where she went to school. Pepper agreed to put a tracker in her shoe, with MJ’s consent, to calm my fears.

_\---MJ---_

“Okay, so here’s lunch,” Pepper said, handing me a little reusable canvas bag with the Stark logo on it. “Happy’s driving you to school.”

“Pepper, I have my car, I can-”

“Nope, Doctor Cho didn’t clear you for a long enough drive.”

I sighed. “Dad-”

“I don’t care what your dad does, MJ, we both know he doesn’t take care of himself at the best of times.”

I hesitated. “I can’t really argue with that.”

Pepper smiled kindly. “Okay, Happy’s got errands to run in the city all day, so if you need to come home, just call him.”

I nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

\---

The drive was longer than I remembered. Maybe because it’d been a while, and I was still a little concussed. I sat in the front seat, listening to a podcast with Happy, staring out the window at the highway.

“You know I’ll be in the city all day, right?” he asked.

“Yeah, Pepper told me.”

“Text me if you can’t handle being at school anymore.”

“I think I can handle, what, six hours?”

“Yeah, I know, kiddo. You’re a tough cookie. But, you know, just in case.”

“I’ll text you if I need anything,” I assured him. I knew if I needed to get away, I’d probably just go for a walk around the campus, so I didn’t have to bother him. Pepper said he had errands to run, anyways. I didn’t wanna interrupt.

He dropped me off in front of the school, making sure I had my backpack and books and everything before he drove off. Peter waited for me just inside the doors, greeting me with a kiss on the cheek.

“Morning, love,” he said, slipping an arm under my backpack and around my waist.

“Morning. I forgot how long the drive into the city is.”

He smiled. “You can stay with May and I tonight, if you want.”

I shook my head. “I’ll be okay.” I didn’t wanna impose.

He didn’t argue, just walked through the halls with me to my locker. When I opened it, there was a LEGO figure sitting front and centre. Peter was smiling.

“Ned already showed me.”

I picked it up, examining it closer. It was me. Curly brown hair, a denim jacket, black pants.

“This is cute,” I said, trying to hide my smile. “Can you hold it for a sec?”

“Sure.”

I handed it to him, and then started putting books away and sorting out what I needed for first block.

“MJ!”

I heard my name shouted down the hall and turned, just in time for Betty to barrel into me, arms wrapping tight around me. It knocked me off balance, but she managed to catch us before we fell into the lockers.

“I’m so glad to see you,” she said. “Peter does a terrible job of leading decathlon.”

“Hey!”

I laughed. “Well, you have me back,” I assured her. “I’ll take over again.”

She pulled away. “I missed you so much. I have so much to catch you up on.”

I smiled. “I missed you, too.”

Peter butted in. “Sorry, Betty, but we gotta get MJ to class.”

“Right, right. I’ll see you after school for decathlon?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

She headed off to her locker, so Peter draped his arm over my shoulders, and we headed to my first block class.

\---

The day of classes was long and boring. None of my teachers were made any more entertaining by my concussion or my weeks of isolation.

I ate lunch with the whole decathlon group, and very quickly realized that Ned and Betty were holding hands under the table. When I caught up with Betty after lunch, as we were heading to our class, she told me that he’d called her over one night when he was terrified he’d never see me again, and they tearfully confessed their feelings to each other.

After fourth block, I pulled my decathlon binder out of the bottom of my locker, and headed to the classroom we held decathlon in.

When I walked in, Mr. Harrington gave me a big smile.

“MJ! Great to have you back.”

I smiled at him, taking my seat. “What did I miss?”

“We competed last week and came in second, and so we’re advancing to the next level.”

“Nice. Go us.”

Everyone else trickled in. Peter sat down next to me, running a hand up and down my back.

“You feeling okay?” he asked.

“I’m a little tired. I might take you up on the offer to stay with you tonight.”

He kissed my temple. “I’ll text Mr. Stark.”

He pulled out his phone and sent my dad a text, just as Flash stumbled in, late.

“Hey, MJ,” he said, sitting down.

I rolled my eyes. “Good to see you, too, Flash.” I opened my binder, and started going through everything. I assigned chapters of the textbooks for people to study, and we started strategizing. It was a long meeting, trying to get me caught up and simultaneously prepare for competition, but at the end of it, I felt confident in us.

Once we wrapped up and everyone left, Peter stayed behind with me and Mr. Harrington as I sorted out my notes.

“Did, um, did my dad text you back?” I asked.

“Yeah, he said he’s fine with you staying. May’s on her way to pick us up, too.”

I smiled. “Thanks, Peter.”

“Of course.”

I finished sorting out my notes, and then we left Mr. Harrington to grade papers late into his night.

We went to our lockers, and then waited just inside the front doors for May.

His phone buzzed.

“She said she’s outside but down the street a little, because I guess parking outside the school this late is illegal?”

I shrugged. “Alright, let’s go.”

We headed out of the school, making sure we had everything before the doors locked behind us.

A dark SUV pulled up in front of us. A sharp spike of panic went right through my chest.

“Peter,” I said, grabbing his hands.

“What? What are you doing?”

A couple of masked guys got of the car. Hurriedly, I pushed up Peter’s sleeves. He didn’t have his web shooters on, thank goodness.

“MJ, go back inside,” he said, pushing me behind him.

“The doors are locked, Peter.”

“Ah, so this is Peter.” The voice was painfully familiar. That was Gargan. He pulled a gun out of his jacket. “Peter, step aside.”

“No.”

Gargan tilted the gun up and shot above out heads, the bullet zipping past us and shattering the window above the doors. I flinched, gripping the straps of my backpack. I was not going to cry right now, I was not going to cry right now, I was not going to cry right now.

The other guy, the tall one, stepped forward, a hand on his waistband. “Should I grab Peter, boss?”

Gargan nodded.

The tall guy lunged forward, trying to grab Peter and pull him away from me. Peter punched him, square in the jaw, knocking him to the ground, and ran at Gargan, tackling him.

“Run, MJ!”

I booted it to May’s car, keeping my eyes focused on the back bumper.

God, I was out of shape.

I could hear Peter and Gargan struggling, and forced myself not to look back. Looking back would mean losing time. I had to trust Peter and his abilities.

_\---Peter---_

I was on top of Gargan, trying to wrestle the gun out of his hands. It went off once, pointed at the sky. The loud bang made me flinch, but I focused. MJ had to get to the car. She had to.

And then a second bang went off, and I heard MJ scream and hit the ground. In my moment of distraction, Gargan punched right under my ribs, knocking the air out of me, and then pushed me off. I landed on the concrete, coughing, trying to catch my breath. I could see the taller guy and Gargan run over to MJ, pulling her bag off of her, and dragging her to her feet. Gargan pulled a black…pillowcase, maybe, out of his jacket pocket, and pulled it over MJ’s head. She was lifting her left foot off of the ground, and I realized blood was dripping off of her shoe.

I got to my feet, slowly, still winded. The taller guy held his gun to MJ’s covered head.

“Stay there, loverboy,” Gargan said. “Unless you want her brains splattered on the pavement.”

I held my hands up in surrender. I hoped May was calling the police or Mr. Stark, because there was no way she hadn’t heard the gunshots.

Gargan and his henchman pulled MJ to the car. She was limping as she went.

I couldn’t do anything but watch, pathetically, as they shoved her into their car. I watched them drive off into the night, lowering my arms, feeling numb.


	7. whips n chains

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mild sexual assault warning

_\---Peter---_

May got out of her car and ran over, as I fell to my knees.

“Peter, I called Mr. Stark. She had a tracker on her, they’ll be able to find her.” She knelt in front of me.

“I couldn’t stop them,” I choked out. “I was supposed to protect her, and I couldn’t.”

“It’s gonna be okay, Peter.”

“No.” I started to cry. “No, they’re gonna hurt her, or-or kill her, and it’s all my fault.”

May pulled me towards her, and I fell into her arms, sobbing into her shoulder. She let me cry it out for a few minutes, before she said, “I don’t think we’re completely safe right now. Let’s go to the base, okay?”

I sniffled, pulling away. “Okay. Sorry I cried all over you.”

She chuckled softly. “Pete, you’ve been crying on me since you were five. I don’t mind. Let’s go.”

She stood up, then helped me to my feet. I scooped up MJ’s discarded backpack. Her phone was in the side pocket, and had cracked when they’d dropped the bag.

I put it in the trunk of May’s car, and got in, sitting passenger. May got in and shifted into drive.

“Hey, she came back once, she’ll do it again.”

“She’s never gonna feel safe again,” I sniffled. “She’s never gonna trust _me_ again.”

May gave me a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry, Peter.”

I shook my head, looking out the window. “It’s not your fault.”

_\---MJ---_

The car ride was silent. I tried to remember the amount of left and right turns, in case I escaped and needed to find my way back to the school. Right, right, left, right, left, u-turn, right. I think.

My calf was throbbing where I’d been shot. Blood was still trickling down my leg.

We parked, and Gargan and his henchmen pulled me out of the car. They grabbed me around my arms, like before, and dragged me inside. Every time I put pressure on my left foot, I got a shooting pain up my leg. I tried not to make any noise. I didn’t need them to know I was in pain. I limped wherever they dragged me, including down some stairs. The taller one let go of my arm, and I heard a door open. Then Gargan threw me into the room. I rolled across the floor, stopping when I hit the wall.

“You know, Michelle, you’re a real pain in my ass.”

He walked over and pulled the pillowcase off of my head. I blinked, the sudden light blinding me. He was crouching over me.

“So, here’s the deal. You’re gonna tell me who Spider-Man is, or you’re gonna help me make a video, begging your dad to wire me, oh, a hundred mil? In return for his daughter’s location.”

I stared up at him. “You should know my dad doesn’t negotiate. He built the Iron Man suit in a cave out of scraps to avoid negotiation, he’s not just gonna Venmo you because you ask nicely and bat your eyelashes.”

Gargan laughed. “You sound like him.” Then he wound up and slapped me, hard. My face stung, and I could feel it warming, turning red. “We’ll train that out of you.”

“How did that work out for you last time?”

“Sweetheart, we went easy on you last time.”

He walked out of the room, the door slamming shut behind him.

I took the opportunity to look around the room. There was no camera, no speaker. The walls were dirty, parts of the floor were shiny with…something fluid. No chair, either. Gargan had thrown me into an empty room. He was at a disadvantage.

And, unfortunately for him, I was still wearing my shoes.

He came back in, holding a whip. He cracked it in the air over me, and I flinched.

“Let’s play a game. You’re gonna answer my questions, or I’m gonna whip you.”

I glared at him. “Really? Whipping a black girl?”

He brought the whip down, cracking it over the tops of my thighs. I gritted my teeth as it sliced my flesh open, stinging like hell.

“I’d ask if your dad every taught you to respect your elders, but knowing who your dad is, I’d guess not. So, question number one. What’s Spider-Man’s favourite show.”

“I don’t know,” I lied. Peter’s favourite show was Brooklyn Nine-Nine.

Gargan wound up with his whole body, and brought the whip down again. I bit my lip to stop from crying out.

“He works for your dad, I have a hard time believing you know nothing about him.”

“Why would I? I don’t work for my dad, I just stay out of the way.”

He narrowed his eyes at me. “Why don’t I believe you?”

“I don’t know what you want from me. I can’t tell you anything I don’t know. Unless you’d prefer false information.”

“You’re no use to me if you’re just a pretty face with a sharp tongue.”

“Great, then drop me back off at the school.”

He laughed, then whipped me again, cutting shallow across my thighs. “No can do, sweetheart. If we don’t need you, you’re dead.”

I clenched my jaw, trying hard to think my way out of this one.

“Lemme give you an easier one. What colour is his hair?”

“I’ve never seen him without the mask.” But I could picture his hair, dark brown locks curling around my fingers.

The whip cracked down over my thighs again, and I whimpered, despite trying not to. My thighs were stinging and burning, and blood was dripping from the cuts down the sides of my legs.

“Which borough does he live in?”

“Why would I know where my dad’s employee lives?”

I got another lash for that. I gritted my teeth, a low groan escaping anyways.

“Just tell me his name.”

“No.”

He lashed me again. “Why not?”

“Because he does a lot of good for this city.”

He whipped me again. “You’re pathetic.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not the one spending my spare time lashing a seventeen year old girl for information on a costumed vigilante in a dank basement.”

He wound up extra hard and lashed over my thighs, close to my hips. I yelped. He knelt down, grabbing my face, forcing me to look him in the eyes.

“Listen here, you worthless pain in my ass, I’m gonna give you a few hours, and then you can either speak up and spill the beans, or I can start showing you my slowest, most painful ways of murder. You can learn firsthand. Got it?”

He let go of my face, and stood up, towering over me.

“Yeah, it’s gonna be a lot of fun to kill Tony Stark’s pathetic little daughter, watch him weep crocodile tears at your funeral.”

He left the room, door slamming shut behind him.

Okay, MJ, think. The whole drive couldn’t have been more than twenty minutes from the school. If Dad’s on his way, he should be here soon, because he knows my location, because there’s a tracker in my shoe. I’m gonna be okay. Gargan’s not gonna kill me. I’m gonna be okay.

I wasn’t looking forward to Dr. Cho having to take off my leggings to clean my wounds. I figured that by the time they got here, the blood would be caked and dry and would hurt to peel away.

And, man, these leggings were so comfortable, and now I was gonna have to throw them out.

At least I was warm. I was wearing Peter’s NASA sweater, and the sleeves were long enough to pull over my hands.

I thought about Gargan’s comment about crocodile tears. Dad wouldn’t fake being upset over me, right? He’d taken time away from work, which he never does, to help me recover, and tried to spend as much time with me as possible. He brought me my old teddy bear. He cared, he had to. I wasn’t just an unfortunate accident, I was his daughter. He’d come get me. Right?

The minutes ticked by slowly. I kept thinking about how right now, I was supposed to be cuddled up with Peter in his room, feeling safe and loved.

Right now, I was just lonely and scared. I didn’t want Gargan to hurt me anymore, I didn’t want him to kill me. I wanted to go back to Peter’s and sit on the couch with him and May and watch movies.

I could feel my pulse in my thighs. I sat up, leaning back against the wall, and looked at my thighs. They were red and angry, slashed open, blood dripping from long, shallow slices.

I didn’t think I’d ever be back in this situation. As nervous as I was about Gargan still roaming free, I didn’t think he’d have much reason to come back for me. He knew I wouldn’t tell him anything, what was the point? Why did he want to hurt me again?

_\---Peter---_

We were in the van, Mr. Stark’s laptop in Rhodey’s lap, a red dot flashing, indicating where MJ was. I was suited up, ready to kill Gargan the second I saw him. Dr. Cho, Dr. Stevens, and Dr. Roberts were all setting up medical equipment, ready to treat any wounds MJ had.

We pulled up outside of an abandoned bookstore. Gargan had a few guys outside the building, hands on their gun holsters.

Mr. Stark looked at me. “Okay, kid, we know that you’re the one they wanna hurt, so-”

“I’m not staying behind.”

Mr. Stark and Rhodey exchanged a look.

“Listen, Peter, I know you love her, but the last thing she needs is to see you get hurt. You know she’s gonna blame herself if that happens, right?”

I sighed. “Right.”

I glanced out the window, to see one of Gargan’s guys holding a megaphone.

“Hey, Tony Stark, you showed up!”

Mr. Stark glared out the window.

“Just so you know, if we see you, we kill her. She’s ours. So I’d take your van and skedaddle.”

Mr. Stark was bristling. His hands were closed in fists, his jaw set.

He was scared.

“Tony, let’s go.”

Mr. Stark didn’t seem to hear Rhodey’s voice.

“Tony, let’s-”

“Of course, if you have Spider-Man with you, Gargan would be happy to trade.”

That got Mr. Stark’s attention. He looked at me, and for a second I thought he was considering it.

“Don’t. Move,” he growled, protectively. I’d only ever heard him use that tone when it came to MJ.

“I can get her back,” I whispered. “I’ll be fine, they won’t hurt me-”

“We don’t negotiate,” he told me, his tone indicating he was done discussing it. That was his final decision.

He turned back to the wheel and drove us away. We ended up at a hotel, a few blocks from the bookstore.

“Okay, doctors, I’m gonna put you up in rooms. We need you on call, is that alright?”

The three doctors nodded.

“Of course, Mr. Stark,” Dr. Cho said.

“Great. Peter, Rhodes, stay in the van. I’ll be right back.”

He got out of the van, and the doctors followed him into the hotel. Rhodey turned in his seat to face me.

“We’re gonna figure this out, okay? We know where she is, and they know she’s their bargaining chip.”

I nodded. “I know. I’m just…I’m mad at myself. I was right there with her and I couldn’t protect her.”

Rhodey reached over and put a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t blame yourself, okay? They’re hardened criminals. You’re a kid, and you weren’t prepared to fight them off.”

I took a deep breath. “Okay. I know.”

“Don’t worry too much, okay? Stay focused on getting her back, don’t think about what she’s going through.”

I started fidgeting with my web shooters. “We’re already halfway there, right? We’ll be able to get her back before she’s on death’s doorstep, because we already know where she is. Right?”

Rhodey nodded. “Right.”

He didn’t sound confident.

Mr. Stark came back out to the van a few minutes later, getting into the driver’s seat.

“Okay, game plan. Unfortunately, Peter’s our best bet for a little recon work.”

The eyes on my mask whirred, and I realized they were giving away my expression of surprise. I blinked, getting my face under control. “What do you want me to do?”

“If you can get on the roof of the bookstore unseen, Karen can probably help you figure out the layout, entrances and exits, et cetera. Then Rhodey and I can help you bust in, kick ass, and grab MJ.”

I was shocked. I knew he had a little more faith in me, due to how quickly we got in and out last time, but still. He knew they wanted to hurt me, and yet he trusted me to keep myself safe and out of the way.

“O-okay. I can do that.”

“You sure, kiddo? You can always send your drone on it’s own, it’ll just be a little risky getting it back-”

“I’m sure, Mr. Stark. I’ve got this.”

Rhodey looked at Mr. Stark. “He’s a capable kid, Tony. He didn’t get hurt last time, he’ll be fine this time. Gargan doesn’t seem to be as well established here, based on how there’s no livestream, fewer guards outside, smaller place. He’s at a disadvantage this time, Tony.”

Mr. Stark nodded. “He’s not getting away this time. We’re gonna kill him.”

“Tony, you can’t play judge and jury. Let’s just grab him and turn him into the authorities.”

He shook his head. “He hurt my baby. He’s as good as dead.”

It was kind of unnerving. I’d never heard Mr. Stark sound so cold and…venomous. I knew he was an Avenger, I knew he used to sell military weapons, I knew he’d killed before. But this was so personal, and it was scary thinking about him killing someone right in front of him. It was weird hearing it from someone you think of as a father figure.

But also, it was kind of comforting. He’d do whatever it took to protect MJ. It made me feel a little safer on her behalf.

“Alright, kid, go do your thing. Do not engage, just observe, got it? Once we know the layout, we can come up with a plan.”

“Got it.”

I got out of the van, and swung around, finding the bookstore. I came at it from behind, and hopped up on the roof, staying low to avoid being spotted.

There was no roof access. That made my life a little harder.

“Karen, can we scan the building? Make a blueprint?”

“On it, Peter.”

My heads-up display lit up as the mask scanned the building. There were four floors. The top one looked like an apartment, the second floor looked like an office, the ground floor was a bookstore, and the basement was…a dungeon. There were two rooms, one with the stairs leading downstairs, a desk, a few weapons hung up on the walls. The second room was empty.

“Karen, can you do a thermal scan?”

A few figures showed up. Two in the office area, one in the room with the desk, and one in the empty room in the basement.

It was MJ. It had to be.

She was sitting against the wall, head dropped. Her legs were showing up as warmer than the rest of her body, but I couldn’t figure out why.

“Call Mr. Stark.”

“Dialling,” Karen said.

“What do you see?” Mr. Stark’s voice came through clear as day, sporting a very all-business tone.

“So there’s four floors. The top looks like an apartment, so I think Gargan could be staying here day and night. The second floor is an office, I think. The main floor is still a bookstore, I think. I mean, they definitely don’t use it, but the shelves are still there. And the basement is divided into two rooms. There’s the room where the stairs lead into it, it has weapons and stuff in there, and then there’s another room right off of it. MJ’s sitting against the wall in that one.”

“So walk me through this. How would we get down there?” Mr. Stark asked. I was surprised he was asking me to strategize.

“Uh, there’s a front door and a back door, or there’s one fire escape at the back, but I think the best way would be from the back door, because it’s closer to the stairs to the basement.”

“Is there anybody guarding it?”

I hesitated. “Uh, Karen, turn thermal back on.”

“Gotcha,” she said, and thermal lit back up on my display.

“There’s one guy on the inside guarding it.”

Mr. Stark gave a half-huff, half-grunt. “Okay, come back to the van and let’s figure this out.”

“Be right there.”

He hung up.

“Karen, send the scans to Mr. Stark’s laptop.”

“Done. Anything else, Peter?”

“No, thanks, Karen. I’ve got it from here.”

She stopped scanning the building, and I swung back over to the van. I climbed in, sitting behind Mr. Stark and Rhodey.

“So, what’s the plan?” I asked.

“Well, there’s limited space to sleep, so I’m guessing Gargan’s either gonna have the men he has with him rotate shifts, or he has more men, and these ones will go home and such. Either way, that means when they rotate, there’s a few minutes where they’re off their guard. Hopefully, that’ll give us the opportunity to sneak in the back, take out that guard, and get downstairs before any of them can alert Gargan,” Mr. Stark explained. “It’s a narrow timeframe, and it relies on them all switching out at the same time, but it’s all I can think of right now.”

Rhodey motioned for the laptop, so Mr. Stark handed it to him.

“We get Peter in the back door with a stealth suit on, have him web up the guards, both at the back door and out front, and then you can I can bust in and rip Gargan to pieces while Peter gets MJ.”

Mr. Stark shook his head. “If the webs don’t restrain them from contacting Gargan, MJ’s dead.”

“So we pull Barnes out of hiding. He’s an expert sniper, Tony.”

“We’re not asking Barnes for help. End of story. Ask Romanoff, if you think we need a sniper.”

Rhodey sighed. “Natasha loves MJ. Barnes is detached, he wasn’t her babysitter for years-”

“I’m sorry, when has Romanoff ever let her emotions get the better of her? Call her.”

Rhodey glanced at me before pulling out his phone and dialling Miss Romanoff’s number, putting it on speaker.

“Hey, Natasha, can I ask for a personal favour?”

_“I’m with Clint and his family. Do I need to come back to the city for this?”_

“Yeah.”

_“Usual deal? I scratch your back, you scratch mine?”_

“It’s probably personal for you, too,” he said slowly. “MJ’s been kidnapped.”

_“AGAIN?”_

“Yes, again. It’s a long story, and I’ll tell you when you get here. We need a sniper to get her out.”

_“Give me one second.”_

You could hear her hand covering the microphone, muffled voices speaking indistinctly.

_“I’ll be there by morning. Send me your location.”_

“Thank you, Nat.”

_“Anything for my little Mishy.”_

The call ended with a click.

I pulled off my mask, and ran my hand through my hair to fix my hair. “So we’re just gonna wait for Miss Romanoff?”

Mr. Stark shifted back into drive, and we headed back towards the hotel. “I got us rooms. We’re up at dawn, alright?”

Rhodey and I both nodded.

We went back to the hotel and got set up for the night. Mr. Stark made sure we had a change of clothes and toiletries. I crawled into bed, and stared at my phone screen, at the photo of MJ laughing, of me smiling at her.

I wanted so badly to be able to keep her safe. To be back at home, curled around her, telling her I love her and getting a smile out of her.

But she was sitting against that wall, in a dungeon of a basement. Alone and scared, again.

I started to go through every photo I had of her. Pictures of her working in the art room, leaning over her canvas, too focused to realize I was snapping photos. Pictures of her when we went out on fancy dates, leaning against the side of my car in a dress, giving me a real, genuine smile. Pictures of her kissing my cheek, pictures taken immediately after of the print of tinted lip calm, or lipstick. Videos of her doing dumb shit to make me laugh, throwing fries at me at lunch, doing dumb dances in my room when I’d been studying too long without a break, trying to do weird kitchen stunts on the nights we cooked together. Every single one ended with her looking at me and laughing.

I missed the sound of her laugh, even though I’d heard it earlier today. Maybe because I knew she probably wasn’t even close to laughing right now.

As much as I hated not knowing what she was going through right now, it was a small mercy to not be listening to her screams and sobs and whimpers, to not see the blood flowing from her skin, see it matting her hair to her skull.

I’d do anything to go back a couple of hours and do things differently, so I could save her. But I couldn’t. I was helpless.

I found a video of her opening her locker and seeing a big back of Reese’s Pieces fall out, into her hands. Her face lit up, and she turned to me, smiling.

_“Peter!”_

_“Happy six months, MJ.”_ I could hear the smile in my own voice.

She ran towards me, and the video ended.

I called her number, just to hear her voicemail.

_“Hey, it’s MJ. Or Michelle. Whichever you prefer. Uh, text me, I guess, and lemme know what you want. You clearly know my number. Thanks.”_

I hung up before it beeped, and held my phone to my chest, like it was my last piece of MJ.

Part of me was mourning her, pre-emptively. If Gargan had threatened to kill her so many times the first time, it felt more likely that he’d follow through this time.

I made a mental note to buy as many Reese’s as I could get my hands on. She’d either come back, and have a huge supply to work through, or I’d bury her with some.

That was a depressing thought.

I imagined her funeral, thinking of songs to play, the dress she’d want to be buried in, all of it, slowly falling asleep.

_\---MJ---_

Gargan came back into the room, holding a floor length mirror. He leaned it against the wall opposite me, so I could see myself in the reflection. I winced a little at my appearance, and looked away.

“You’re finally seeing how pathetic you look, aren’t you?” Gargan said, smirking. “I really don’t know how you locked down that boyfriend of yours. He’s way out of your league. Aren’t I right?”

Socially? No, not all. He and I were both at the bottom of the social ladder.

But him as a person? Of course he was way out of my league. He was so intelligent and caring and _good_.

“Yeah,” I agreed solemnly.

“God, look at yourself. It’s pitiful, really.”

I looked in the mirror. My hair was a frizzy mess, probably from the pillowcase, from being thrown into the room, all of it. My face was blotchy and uneven looking. My legs were covered in blood, which was slowly drying and caking on my skin and leggings.

Gargan crouched down, halfway between me and the mirror, just to the right so I could still see my reflection. “What do you see?”

I dropped my gaze. “A pathetic mess.”

“What don’t you like about yourself?”

“My hair’s a rat’s nest, my face looks gross, and I’m covered in my own blood.”

Gargan nodded. “You really are just ugly and worthless. Say that to yourself.”

I didn’t want to. I’d worked so hard to bury everything he’d told me before, I didn’t wanna bring it back up. But I didn’t wanna get whipped again, so I complied, looking into my reflection.

“I’m ugly and worthless.”

“And nobody loves you.”

“And nobody loves me.”

“And nobody wants you.”

“And nobody wants me.”

All at once, it felt true again. Peter let them grab me. Dad let me go to school, knowing Gargan was walking free. Nobody wanted me once they realized how difficult I was. I’d needed so much care, and I hadn’t been perfectly compliant, and they didn’t want me.

“I’m ugly, and worthless, and nobody loves me, and nobody wants me.”

Gargan grinned, sickeningly. “Good girl.” He came towards me, knees on either side of my thighs, towering over me. “Your boyfriend’s never gonna wanna see you again, let alone touch you.”

I tried not to squirm. He didn’t smell…great, and I didn’t like the close proximity to the man who’d once shot nails through my hands.

“Really, you should be grateful I’m so willing to deal with your whiny ass,” he said, bringing his lips close to my ears. I could feel his breath, hot against my skin. I squeezed my eyes shut. “Say thank you, Michelle.”

I almost puked. “Thank you.”

“Good girl.”

He pushed his hands up under my sweater. I tensed as his fingers glided over my skin, rough and calloused. I kept thinking of all the terrible things those hands had done. They had so much blood on them. I didn’t want them on me.

There was no camera this time, no livestream. Dad and Peter weren’t watching. Part of me felt even more alone, because of that, but part of me was grateful. I didn’t want anybody else to see this. I didn’t want Peter to see me taking this without a fight, because I knew he’d hate me if he saw this. I didn’t want Dad to see his pathetic little mistake letting the guy who hurt me touch me like this.

Gargan lifted the sweater, and I let him take it off of me, leaving me in my bra.

“God, you’re really just a stick, huh? No curves, nothing for your boyfriend to grab onto. He’s probably so thankful he’s rid of you,” Gargan said, hands gripping my waist, leaning back and looking at me.

I’d always been a little self conscious of how skinny and figureless I was, and the fact that I was underweight wasn’t helping me. And Peter had never said anything, but then again, my dad was Iron Man. He’d said it himself, if he wasn’t a good boyfriend, my dad would have forty types of missiles aimed at him. He was probably never attracted to my body, and just pretended for his own sake.

“Probably,” I mumbled, forcing myself not to try to move away from Gargan.

Gargan ducked his head, kissing down my neck. When I didn’t respond, he reached up and pulled my hair, jerking my head to the side, giving himself more access. I tried to block out the feeling of his dry lips on my neck, his hands squeezing my waist, the flips and twists my stomach was doing.

“Don’t,” I pleaded, quietly. “Please.”

“Who else will?” Gargan said.

“Please, just stop.”

He sank his teeth into my neck, and I cried out. He let go, getting off of me.

“That’s why nobody wants you, Michelle. You’re hard to love. You’re ungrateful and unattractive and wretched.”

I touched my neck, rubbing over where he’d bitten me with the palm of my hand. “I know,” I said quietly.

He scowled at me, then left the room. I looked at myself in the mirror. I could count my ribs in the reflection, see the bones in my shoulders, elbows, wrists. My nose turned pink as I tried not to cry. My neck was shiny with Gargan’s saliva, and there was a bruise forming where he’d bitten me.

Peter and Dad were never gonna wanna see me again. There was no point to me even being alive. I wasn’t supposed to be alive in the first place, who would care if I died? I was a mistake, and Gargan was an eraser. A super brutal one, but an eraser.

I deserved this. I deserved to be here.

A few minutes passed, me staring at myself in the mirror, realizing it was a good thing I’d die here. Then Gargan came back in with a glass of water.

“Here. Drink up. All of it.”

He handed me the glass, and I chugged it all, worried if I refused, he wouldn’t give me more.

“Enjoy the high,” he told me with a wink, taking the glass back.

No, no no no no no no no. I did not want that LSD high again. That was awful. I didn’t wanna see Mom trying to kill me again, or walls that were falling apart, or a ceiling on fire or crumbling down.

But there was nothing I could do now.

After a few minutes, I got a buzz. I felt better, like I could go for a run. My legs weren’t hurting as much. I was…calm. Almost happy. I was warm, despite not wearing my sweater. It felt like a rush, the same kind you get after a rollercoaster.

I looked at myself in the mirror, and felt…disconnected, like that wasn’t me at all. It was almost like I was out of my body, floating, almost like in a dream.

And then I felt like it all came crashing down, after just a few moments. The energy was sucked out of my body, all at once. I felt grounded again, and then realized how nauseous I was.

At least this wasn’t LSD.

I laid down across the floor, on my side, taking deep breaths. I didn’t wanna puke, I didn’t wanna feel worse about myself right now.

I closed my eyes, letting the drowsiness take over.

_\---Peter---_

I couldn’t stay asleep. I kept thinking about how much danger MJ was in, how likely it was that she was already dead. What if we got in and it was too late? What if I broke into the room, only to see her laying there, limp and cold, long gone?

I couldn’t imagine she’d even want me to come near her anyways. She probably hated me. I was the asshole boyfriend who let those guys hurt her again. I was right there next to her. I was supposed to protect her. Why couldn’t I? She was my priority, and I couldn’t even save her.

If I couldn’t save her, how was I supposed to protect New York?

Of all the people that spider could’ve bitten, it picked the worst one.

_\---MJ---_

Cold water hit my face, jerking me awake.

I was disoriented, thinking I was on the ceiling for a moment, and then not realizing where I was.

“Wake up, sweetheart.”

I looked up at Gargan.

“You’ve got one more shot, okay? Tell me who Spider-Man is, and I’ll kill you, nice and quick. Two shots to your ugly face.”

I couldn’t piece the words together. I understood all of the words individually, but I couldn’t string them together.

Gargan knelt down and grabbed my face, holding it close to his.

“Tell me who Spider-Man is.”

I blinked, slowly realizing what he meant.

“I’m not gonna do that,” I slurred. I couldn’t focus my eyes on his face.

He threw me back down, and pulled out a gun.

“I’ve got four rounds in here. You wanna start talking before I start shooting?”

“I can’t. I don’t know anything.”

He pointed the gun at my leg, and pulled the trigger. My thigh exploded in white-hot pain, and blood started to trickle from the wound. I screamed, short and high-pitched.

“Talk.”

“Kill me.”

He shot my other thigh, and I screeched again.

“Talk,” he repeated, pointing the gun at my arm. “Now.”

I shook my head. Whatever he’d given me was numbing out the pain anyways.

I could hear the gunshot, feel the bullet tear through my arm. But maybe I was too high, or maybe I was going into shock, or maybe it was both, but I didn’t feel a lot of the pain. There was some, for sure, but it wasn’t the blinding pain of being shot in the thighs.

He scoffed, dropping the gun on my stomach. “You’ve got one more shot, since you’re clearly worthless to me. I shouldn’t even be wasting bullets on you.”

I grabbed the gun with both hands, and held it under my chin, pulling the trigger without hesitation. I heard it pop, and for a split second, felt absolutely euphoric.

And then I heard Gargan’s laugh, and realized I was still alive, and felt a sob rising in my throat.

“You really think I’d let you die that easy? I told you I wanted you to suffer. That’s what you deserve, Michelle.” He laughed again, wrenching the gun out of my hands. “Your whole existence is _sad_.”

He left the room, door closing with finality behind him.

I cried. I was lashed and full of bullet holes and high and alone and I just wanted to die. I needed the release of death. I knew he was going to kill me eventually, but it was gonna hurt so much on the way there.

I just wanted it to be over. All of it.

_\---Peter---_

Rhodey came into my room to wake me up in the morning. It wasn’t hard, I’d just barely dozed off a few minutes earlier.

“We’re meeting in Tony’s room to strategize. Come on.”

I let him drag me out of bed and down the hall to Mr. Stark’s hotel room.

“What time is it?” I asked Rhodey, voice as groggy as I was.

“Quarter past five. Natasha just got in.”

He pulled me into Mr. Stark’s room, and the first person I saw was Miss Romanoff.

“Hi,” I said, trying to sound more alert.

I knew I probably looked like a mess. I’d slept in a few twenty minute chucks, and had been crying on and off all night. I didn’t realize how bad I must’ve looked until Miss Romanoff’s expression softened. She crossed the room to me, and pulled me into a hug. She was squeezing me impossibly tight, but it was fine by me.

“Wow, the two spiders are gonna team up against us at some point if we let them keep this up,” Rhodey quipped.

“We’d kick ass,” Miss Romanoff shot back, pulling away from the hug to raise an eyebrow at Rhodey. She turned back to me, gently pushing hair away from my face. “You holding up alright, Peter?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Hey, we’re gonna get her back, okay?”

I sniffled. “She’s gonna hate me. I was there, I was supposed to be protecting her, and-and-”

I started to cry, and hated myself, because I was in a room full of people I idolized. They were all just gonna see me as a kid who couldn’t handle anything.

Miss Romanoff just hugged me again. “Mishy’s not gonna hate you. Trust me, I’ve been in her position. She’s gonna need you more than ever.”

I sobbed into her shoulder, and she squeezed me tight.

Rhodey slipped past us to the desk and he and Mr. Stark started talking quietly. When I stopped crying, Miss Romanoff gave me a smile and led me over to the desk. Once we sat down, her expression hardened.

“Alright, tell me what I’ve gotta do to get Mishy out of there.”

Mr. Stark turned his laptop so she could see the blue prints.

“There are four guards posted out front, and one just inside the back door. However, I went over the footage from Peter’s mask, and it looks like said guard is just inside of the door, blocking it entirely, so if we can line up where the back door is with where you are, you can shoot through the door to kill him.”

Miss Romanoff nodded, just once. “So, all five guards.”

“The goal is to stop anyone from contacting Gargan between when they realize we’re there, and when they’re dropping dead,” Rhodey said. “If Gargan knows we’re there, he’ll kill her, so it’s a dangerous mission, but we’ve gotta do it.”

She nodded again. “I can handle it.”

“I know you can,” Mr. Stark said. “That’s why we called you. So, you’re gonna take out the guards out front, then Peter and Rhodey and I are gonna break in through the back and get down to the basement to grab MJ. Once we’re in, meet us at the van, because you’re driving.”

“Sounds like a solid plan. You bringing your armour in with you?”

Mr. Stark tapped the glowing triangle under his sweater. “Yep.”

“When are we doing this?” she asked.

Mr. Stark looked at me. “Peter’s gonna stake out the building, wait for Gargan to sleep or leave or something. If he’s not there at all, it eliminates the risk of him killing MJ. So, Peter, chug some coffee and suit up. We’ll prep our weapons and the van, and we’ll be waiting on your signal to get into that back alley behind the bookstore. Got it?”

I nodded. “Got it.”

Rhodey patted my shoulder. “You got this kiddo. Get Karen to page FRIDAY when you notice a good moment. Otherwise, we move in at sundown.”

I stood up. “Understood.”

I left the room, hands shaking.

Trusting me with MJ’s life was a bad move, but there were limited options, so into the suit I got.

 


	8. fade me away, i won't ever be the same

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so this is the last chapter of torturing mj (woo!) and there's still a ways to go in the story but there's also...an alternate ending...and it's either gonna be the next chapter or the chapter after that. it won't be canon, per se, but it was a super depressing idea I had that I really wanna write bc angst

_\---Peter---_

I crouched on a rooftop a few buildings over, watching the bookstore, thermal on. So far, Gargan (identifiable by height and weird thermal patterns on his face, indicating his scars) was in the office, two of his henchmen were downstairs, standing outside the door to MJ’s room, his four guards were outside, and there was one guard inside by the back door.

So, basically, not much had changed. Gargan was awake, for sure, pacing the office and talking into his phone. His henchmen downstairs were talking to each other.

MJ was laying on the ground, curled up. Parts of her body were lighting up hotter, which didn’t make sense to me. A spot on her arm, and her thighs, like before. The ground under her and a little of the ground around her was warm, too. I just couldn’t figure out why.

“Peter?” Mr. Stark said into my ear. It spooked me.

“Hi, hi, I’m here.”

“How’s the stakeout going?” he asked.

“Nothing’s happening. Gargan has two men outside MJ’s room.”

“Where is he?”

“Upstairs, in the office.”

He paused, and I could hear Rhodey’s voice, indistinctly. He came back to the call. “Are the guards still in the same positions?”

“Yeah.”

Mr. Stark sighed. “Okay, keep us updated.”

There was a click, and his voice was gone.

“Karen, can Mr. Stark just…start a call? I don’t have to answer?”

“Correct. He installed that feature after the Ferry Incident.”

I huffed. “Alright.”

Gargan lowered his phone, and went downstairs. I held my breath. He went down to the main floor, and spoke briefly to the guard at the backdoor, then went around to the stairs that led to the basement. He didn’t speak to either of the men, at least not that I could tell, just grabbed something off of the desk and went into MJ’s cell. It was cylindrical and cold, so I hoped it was a bottle of water and nothing that would hurt her.

He went into her room, and knelt down. She lifted her head, and he handed her the cylinder. It had to be water. He got up, and I thought he was going to leave, but he paced around the room.

This was different from what he did when MJ was strapped to a chair. He seemed to be talking to her, which meant he probably didn’t have a speaker to talk to her through. She was sitting up, relying on her cooler arm to hold her upright. I realized she was kind of cradling the other arm, the one with the warm spot.

She was injured. The hotter spots on her body were wounds.

That meant her thighs and her left arm were all injured.

I hoped the wounds in her thighs weren’t too deep, because that could mean she was bleeding out slowly. At least the one in her arm was far enough away from her shoulder that she probably wasn’t at high risk.

“I’m sorry,” I breathed.

“Sorry for what, Peter?” Karen asked, voice loud in my ears. I flinched.

“Sorry, sorry, not you. I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”

“Were you talking to MJ?”

“Yeah,” I admitted, trying to pay attention to Gargan and MJ. MJ was drinking her water while Gargan paced.

“She can’t hear you, Peter.”

“I know!” I shouted. I took a breath to calm myself down. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. You’re quite stressed, do you want to talk about it?”

“No, I need to pay attention.”

“Got it.”

MJ was done her water, the bottle or glass or whatever now warmer than before. Gargan came over and picked up the cylinder. He said something else to her, and she dropped her head. He kept going, and she started to curl up, turning away, drawing her knees to her chest.

I didn’t know what he was saying to her, but I couldn’t imagine it was anything good.

I wanted to be able to get in there and hold her and tell her everything I loved about her. I wanted to tell her how gorgeous and talented and kind and strong she is. I wanted to tell her how good it felt to see her in the mornings at school, or see her after a rough night patrolling when I’m beaten and bruised and feel like crap, or just hold her. I wanted to tell her how good her skin felt under my hands, how good it felt to feel her ribs expand and contract as she dozed off, how good it felt to feel her breath over my neck. I wanted to tell her how much I loved her when I was awake in the middle of the night and she was laying on top of me, sleeping peacefully, or how much I loved her when she ran up to me in the hall, proudly holding a test so I could see her marks, or how much I loved her when she was bent over a desk in the art room, paint covering her hands and splattered over her face, giving her colourful freckles, or how much I loved her when she called me before bed on the nights we didn’t get to stay together, and I got to listen to her get sleepier and sleepier as she tried to hold a conversation, eventually trailing off mid-thought. I wanted to tell her that if she made it through this, I’d buy her as many Reese’s as she wanted, take her to the art supply store whenever she wanted, do whatever it took to keep her happy and healthy. I wanted to tell her I’d take a bullet if it meant she’d ever smile again.

But I couldn’t. And Gargan was standing over her, yelling now, and she was curling up and shying away, and I had no way of telling her that everything he was saying was wrong, she was worth the world and more.

Gargan grabbed her around the neck and pinned her to the wall. She went limp, legs and arms falling away, looking up at Gargan.

I realized she wasn’t afraid of dying. I couldn’t blame her. If I had to go through that much pain, I’d be welcoming death, too. But it absolutely shattered my heart to see her without any of her fight in her. The MJ I’d known six weeks ago would be kicking and screaming and prying him off. The MJ on my thermal scan was laying her, staring back at Gargan, doing nothing to stop him from choking her.

He held her like that for a while, and then dropped her, leaving the room. She fell to the floor, and I could see her chest rise and fall as she gasped for breath.

This was all my fault. I could’ve prevented this. I could’ve fought those guys off and taken her to May’s car and held her tight all night. We could be laying in my bed this morning, groaning as my alarm went off. I could be seeing her sleepy grin, or tossing her one of my sweaters to wear, or standing next to her while we brushed our teeth.

I could’ve, if I weren’t an absolute failure.

_\---MJ---_

I laid on the floor, catching my breath. I felt completely numb. The pain in my chest was gone, despite my body still working to breathe normally. My legs and arm were fine, too. I knew everything Gargan had said was true, too, but it wasn’t hurting just yet.

Whatever was in that water, it was doing me some favours.

I wondered how long I’d been in here. There was one window in here, but it was covered with tin foil, so I didn’t know if it was night or day.

I was starving. I hadn’t eaten since lunch, and I knew the lack of food was especially bad for me right now. But who cared, right? I was going to die here anyways. Gargan had stopped asking questions and had started just making sure I knew how minimal a loss my death was going to be.

It still wasn’t pleasant to hear. The knowledge that everybody I loved would be dancing on my grave (if I was ever even buried) wasn’t comforting. I didn’t want to think about Peter telling Ned with a sigh of relief that I was gone. I didn’t want to think about Dad calling the other Avengers, the people who’d babysat me when Dad was working overtime, and having them congratulate him. I wanted so badly to be missed, but I wasn’t going to be.

Maybe that was for the better. It meant they could be happier without me. And that’s what you want for the people you love, for them to be happy.

It wasn’t easy on me, but what did that matter? It was likely a matter of hours before I died.

Once I caught my breath, it was easy to relax and let the drowsiness take over. I closed my eyes and allowed myself to fall asleep.

\---

Gargan woke me up with a kick to the stomach. I jerked awake, groaning and coughing, arms wrapping around my midsection. I was sweating and shaking and felt like throwing up, but I didn’t know if the nausea was a result of a boot acquainting itself with my stomach, or if it was a side effect of whatever he was drugging me with.

When I looked up at him, he was holding two long spikes in each hand. He used his toe to roll me over, onto my back. I whined, softly, the blood that was matted to the side of my body peeling away painfully.

“Alright, sweetheart, if you’re a good girl, I’ll kill you nice and quick. Just tell me whatever you know about Spider-Man.”

I swallowed my nausea for a moment. “I thought you’d given up on me saying anything.”

He laughed, moving one spike from his right hand to his left, so he had one in his right hand, and three in his left. “I figured you’d give up anything to be put out of your misery right now. You’re probably starting to go through withdrawal, aren’t you? You’re not getting any more drugs, I can tell you that, so you might as well tell me so I can just end it all for you.”

“If you’re gonna kill me anyways, just do it,” I mumbled, letting my arms fall away from my stomach.

“If you insist.”

He drove a spike into me, just above my right hip bone. Whatever drug had been numbing out my pain was gone now, and I felt it fully, letting out the most animalistic scream as he stabbed me.

“You wanna talk now?”

“Fuck you,” I said through gritted teeth.

He grabbed a spike from his left hand with his right, and drove that in to the left of the first one. I screamed again.

It was fine. It’d be over soon.

“Why don’t you tell me something about daddy dearest? Any banking passwords you know, blackmail-worthy secrets?”

“Fuck. You.”

He grabbed another spike and stabbed it in to the left of the last one. I didn’t even have the energy to scream anymore, just watched and let my eyes fill with tears.

“Last chance. I can push this one straight through your heart, if you’d like. Or your neck. Just tell me anything.”

My vision was going black at the corners, and I was dizzy, and the whole room was spinning. I didn’t speak. He brought the last spike down, right above my left hipbone. I could hear my own sounds, but I didn’t have control over making them. They seemed distant and faint, but they were mine. I knew that much.

Gargan left after that. I could see his figure retreating, and was barely aware of the door closing behind him.

This hurt too much to bear. I reached for one of the spikes, intending to pull it out and stab myself again, somewhere that would kill me faster. My hands were weak and shaky. I wrapped both hands around a spike, and managed to lift it a little, but god, it felt like it was ripping me apart, and I was too weak to pull it out faster.

I let go, and laid back, staring at the ceiling.

This was it. I was dying. I couldn’t take a full breath, it took too much effort and it hurt way too much. I was losing blood and Gargan had probably punctured a vital organ and the kick to my stomach wasn’t helping and I was still shaking like a leaf.

I was never gonna eat another one of Dad’s omelets. I was never gonna sit through another decathlon meeting with all of my friends, taking breaks from quizzing each other to make science-based puns. I was never gonna see Dad’s co-workers again. I’d never have another long drive to school with Happy, listening to podcasts together. I’d never hear Aunty Nat call me “Mishy” again, and Uncle Steve was never gonna tell me about the dumb shit he and Bucky did as kids. Pepper was never gonna make me lunch again, or help me make a to-do list so I didn’t get overwhelmed with work. And I was never gonna get to see Peter again.

God, I was never going to see Peter again. I was never going to see those big brown eyes light up when he’d get a question right in class. I was never going to see him in the morning, when his eyes are half-lidded and bleary-looking and his hair is a mess and he gets that soft little smile. I’d never see his smile again. I’d never get to meet him at the front of the school in the morning and kiss him and get to feel happy because I missed him all night. I was never going to sit next to him in class, holding hands under the table while our teacher droned on and on. I’d never feel his thumb rubbing over my knuckles again. I’d never get to go back to Europe, just the two of us, and revisit the places that started all of it. I was going to miss him so much, if there was an afterlife.

It was going too dark and too cold too fast, and I just wanted to be able to say goodbye. Or goodnight. Goodnight hurt less.

“Goodnight, Happy,” I whispered, ignoring the pain for a moment. “Goodnight Nat. Goodnight, Steve. Goodnight, Clint.” It was hard to breathe now. I was fading fast. I just had to make it through this. “Goodnight, Bruce. Goodnight, Thor. Goodnight, Pepper. Goodnight, Uncle Rhodes. Goodnight, Dad. Goodnight, Peter.”

By the end, I was gasping between every syllable. But once Peter’s name was past my lips, I relaxed. I let my eyes drift shut, and stopped struggling for breath.

Everything went still.

_\---Peter---_

“Guards outside neutralized,” Miss Romanoff said. “Wait, Gargan just came upstairs.”

I hesitated, ready to kick down the back door. I knew we were moving in too early. I’d told Rhodey, but he’d insisted it was worth the risk.

“Shoot him,” Mr. Stark ordered.

“I don’t have a clear shot. He’s behind the counter.”

“We’re going in, then.”

That was my cue. I kicked open the back door and led Mr. Stark and Rhodey in, stepping carefully around the body of the guard. I started to run past the counter to get to the stairs, but Gargan popped up, pointing two handguns at me. I stopped cold.

“Why, hello, Spider-Man. And Iron Man and War Machine. You might want to know that you’re too late.”

“Peter, you’re directly in the way of my shot,” Miss Romanoff said into my ear.

I couldn’t move, not if I wanted to not get shot. If I moved suddenly, it’d tip him off, anyways.

“So you’ll have no problem letting us downstairs to take my daughter,” Mr. Stark said. His voice was shaking.

And that’s when I realized what “too late” meant.

She was gone.

And then I didn’t care. In a split second that felt like a lifetime, I started to bolt for the stairs. I heard two gunshots, but didn’t pay any attention. I heard the _zip_ of Miss Romanoff shooting at Gargan, but Gargan had ducked behind the counter.

I heard a few more bangs, but I focused on the stairs. I ran down to the basement, praying Gargan had lied.

I tried the door to MJ’s cell, but it was locked. I backed up, and kicked.

There was a sharp pain in my ribs. I looked down and saw blood spreading across my suit.

Oh. Gargan had shot me.

That didn’t matter right now. I had to get this door open.

I gave it one more kick, and it fell forward.

MJ was laying in a pool of her own blood, four long spikes sticking out of her abdomen, several lashes covering the tops of her thighs, and bullet wounds in her thighs, one calf, and one arm.

She was unconscious, and didn’t seem to be breathing.

I ran over, ignoring hot pain in my ribs, and placed two fingers on her neck, avoiding the dark bruise under her ear.

Her pulse was barely there.

I slid one arm under her back, and one arm under her knees, hoping I didn’t damage her more by lifting her.

She didn’t stir. Her head fell limply back, one arm fell over her midsection and the other fell away from her body.

I had to get her to the van.

I went up the stairs, quickly but carefully. As I passed the counter, I realized there was a hidden half door.

“Gargan escaped,” Mr. Stark said. He turned to look at me, and saw MJ. He opened the mask, and his face was pale. He stepped forwards. “What-”

“Don’t touch her,” I ordered protectively. “I’m scared to move her in case it damages her more.”

Rhodey nodded, a hand landing on Mr. Stark’s shoulder. I went past them and out into the back alley. Dr. Cho was standing outside the van. Upon seeing MJ and I, she opened the van doors. I stepped in, laying MJ down on the operating table and then moving out of the way to let the doctors get to work. Mr. Stark stepped in, suit shrinking back into the reactor, and Dr. Cho came in behind him, closing the doors as she did. Mr. Stark moved around to the other side of the operating table, standing by MJ’s head. The doctors were all talking, arranging themselves around her. Dr. Cho pulled her eyelids up and shone a light into her eyes. Mr. Stark was pushing hair out of MJ’s face, whispering to her. Miss Romanoff and Rhodey jumped in the front, and we started to drive.

“Thanks for grabbing her, Peter,” Mr. Stark said, looking up. His eyes landed on my ribs. “You’re bleeding.”

I looked down, at the stain on my suit.

“Doctor Stevens, take a look at Peter.”

“No, no no no, I’m fine. Take care of MJ, please,” I begged.

But the doctor came over, examining me.

“I’m fine, really. Just treat MJ,” I urged.

“You’ve been shot,” Doctor Stevens said. “We’ve gotta treat this quickly.”

I sighed, allowing the doctor to hit the spider drone at the center of my chest and loosen the suit so he could properly treat my wound.

I kept my eyes on MJ, though. She was my priority.

_\---MJ---_

Dad’s voice woke me up, singing softly into my ear. I felt foggy and faint, but I was lying down, so that was okay.

“Dad?” My voice sounded raw and quiet.

“You’re awake. She’s awake.”

“Okay, MJ, what’s your pain like, on a scale of one to ten?” That was Dr. Cho’s voice.

“I can’t feel anything,” I mumbled. “I don’t think I can, anyways.”

The doctors said something to each other, but I couldn’t piece it together.

I could feel myself fading again. I started to close my eyes, but Dad touched my face.

“Stay with me, honey. I need you awake.”

I looked up at him, trying to ignore the tears filling my eyes. “I didn’t think I’d get to say goodbye to you.”

“You’re not saying goodbye-”

“I didn’t think I’d-I’d get to thank you for taking me in and-and being such a good dad and I-I didn’t think I’d get to apologize-”

“MJ, you have nothing to be sorry for. Stop straining yourself.”

The tears spilled over, streaking into my hair. “No, I have to- I have to tell you that I’m sorry for being so needy and for being a distraction and for costing you so much money-”

“Honey, the money isn’t- god, don’t be sorry for me supporting you-”

“But art supplies are expensive and so are medical bills and you pay so much gas money for me to get to school-” My voice was breaking, and I started to cry.

“That’s what dads do,” Dad told me, his eyes glassy. “I’d spoil you so much more if you let me.”

“But that’s such a waste,” I sobbed.

“I have never wasted a single penny on you, honey, I promise.”

“MJ, you need to be still so we can pull some shrapnel out of your leg without damaging an artery,” Dr. Cho said.

I tried to take a deep breath to calm myself down, and suddenly felt the pain of all four spikes. I cried out, then bit my lip.

I had to be calm.

“You’re okay, honey, you’re gonna be okay.”

I let out my breath, and closed my eyes. It’d be okay. I just had to let go.

\---

The shock to my chest woke me up. I yelped, back arching painfully.

“Hey, you’re okay,” Dad said, soothingly.

I sobbed. Because I wasn’t. They’d resuscitated me. This isn’t what I wanted.

If I was dead, they’d be better off.

I could feel metal instruments in my thigh, pulling out pieces of shrapnel. I winced.

“Hey.” That was Peter’s voice. “Hold my hand.”

I shook my head. “’M okay.”

“MJ-”

I shook my head again. I didn’t wanna hurt him, he’d already done so much for me. He’d tried to fight off Gargan, he’d helped Dad rescue me. He didn’t deserve to be hurt.

If I’d just pulled out the spike and stabbed myself again, I’d have saved them a lot of trouble.

I should’ve died. I should’ve.

_\---Peter---_

MJ winced and yelped during the surgery, but the doctors had decided against using anesthesia, due to Gargan’s history of drugging her and her pupils being too small for comfort. However, slowly, her yelps got quieter, sounding more exhausted, and she slowly closed her eyes.

The monitor in the corner’s beeping slowed to a stop, letting out a long flatline.

For the second time, the doctors used the defibrillator, shouting commands and shocking her back to life.

However, this time, one shock wasn’t sufficient. They charged the defibrillator again, and shocked her once more. She yelped as she woke up, crying once her muscles relaxed. Mr. Stark tried to comfort her, but she squeezed her eyes shut.

I was just grateful she couldn’t move enough to see me, the top half of my suit tied around my waist, my ribs bandaged.

I slipped my hand into hers, but she flinched away. I didn’t know if it was the same as last time, if she was just scared to hurt me, or if she hated me now. I couldn’t blame her if she did. She had four spikes sticking out of her and it was all because of me. I’d hate me, too. I kinda did hate me.

Her chest was still barely rising and falling, and she was biting her lip to stop from making any noise while the doctors pulled out bits and pieces of shrapnel.

“We’re fifteen minutes away,” Miss Romanoff said. “Is she holding on?”

“Just barely,” Mr. Stark responded.

She balled up her hands in fists as Dr. Cho cleaned the wounds on her thighs, whining quietly.

“It’s okay, honey, you don’t have to be quiet,” Mr. Stark told her. She just shook her head.

“Give her something to bite down on,” Dr. Roberts said. “If she keeps biting her lip like that, she’ll bite through it.”

“There’s a stress ball in my duffle bag,” Miss Romanoff told Mr. Stark. He reached into her duffle and pulled it out, squishing down one side so it could fit in MJ’s mouth.

“’M fine,” she protested, turning her head away.

“Come on, honey, it’s just to stop you from hurting yourself.”

“I’ll break it.”

Mr. Stark looked at me. I think we were both thinking the same thing. _How hard was she biting her lip?_

“Honey, I insist.”

That was all he had to say for her to obediently open her mouth. He kept one side squished, and pushed it into her mouth. She bit down, jaw clenched hard enough that the muscles were visible.

The doctors were speaking quietly to each other, throwing around big words and medical terms I didn’t quite understand. I understood the words “uterus” and “hemorrhage”. It got MJ’s attention, too. She spat out the stress ball.

“What?”

“We’re gonna have to do a complete hysterectomy,” Dr. Roberts said, ignoring her.

“No, no,” MJ mumbled. “Don’t.”

“One of the spikes was dislodged from where it was initially, which caused a tear. We have to,” Dr. Cho explained.

MJ started to panic, chest rising and falling more rapidly. I reached for her hand again, but the second my fingers touched hers, she jerked her hand away.

Mr. Stark picked up the stress ball and squished it down again.

“MJ, honey, you need to relax.”

She immediately stilled, opening her mouth so he could push the stress ball into her mouth. She stared up at the ceiling blankly.

It was worse than her whining and flinching, because it was like she was welcoming the pain.

Old MJ would’ve asked anybody who told her to relax how they’d be relaxing while they were hemorrhaging. This MJ just took it, arms open.

That terrified me.

\---

We got back to the compound, and MJ was in an operating room. Miss Romanoff, Mr. Stark, and Rhodey and I were all watching through the glass. MJ was restrained, strapped down to the table to stop her from thrashing while they pulled spikes out of her. Dr. Cho a portable version of the Cradle that she held over wounds as they performed surgery.

MJ bit through the stress ball when they pulled out the second spike. The doctors panicked, grabbing it and disposing of it as quickly as possible.

Miss Romanoff was gripping the arms of her chair, knuckles turning white. Rhodey was shaking, tears welling in his eyes. Mr. Stark was full on crying, quiet sobs wracking his whole body, fists clenched.

I had tears streaming down my face, and I was shaking too hard to function.

She flatlined four times since getting into the operating room, six in total. Every time she did, my heart seemed to skip a beat. By the end of the surgery, I was nauseous and dizzy and wanted to take a nap, and I wasn’t even the one operated on. They wheeled MJ into a private room, and told us to give her a few minutes alone before Mr. Stark was allowed in.

I waited in the living room for FRIDAY to alert me, sitting on the couch, knees pulled up to my chest, sobbing.

Rhodey came in and sat down with me. I thought he was going to try to cheer me up, but he started crying, too.

“I thought she was gone,” he mumbled through tears. “I wasn’t ready for that.”

There was a long pause. We both cried and sniffled for a while, and then I said, “I don’t think I can go see her.”

“Why not?” Rhodey asked, surprised.

“She-she hates me. She wouldn’t look at me or-or touch me, and it’s my fault she was even captured again so I know it’s justified, but-”

“Peter. Peter, slow down.” Rhodey grabbed both of my shoulders and forced me to look at him. “She doesn’t hate you. Just give her some time to recover. She’s not herself right now.”

“But what if- what if she does? What do I do?”

Rhodey opened his mouth to answer, then looked away. “I don’t know. I just know that she doesn’t hate you. God, that kid loves you so fiercely, I don’t think she could hate you if she tried.”

I wiped my cheeks with the back of my hand. “I’m scared for her.”

“Me too. And I’m scared for Tony. Every time she flatlined all I could think was…god, we’re gonna have to see him go through losing her. We’ll have to see him stand up at the funeral and…I’ve seen him go through shit, but I can’t imagine watching him lose one of you two.”

“One of us?”

“Yeah, you’re his sort-of son-in-law.”

I stared at Rhodey. “Oh.”

It was weird. In a lot of ways, Mr. Stark had filled the space in my life that Uncle Ben had left, but it was strange to hear that he thought of me as a son.

It did help ease my fears, though. I was family here.

“Do you think Mr. Stark will…kick me out…if MJ hates me?”

Rhodey shook his head. “He doesn’t blame you.”

There was a long silence.

“MJ is permitted to have visitors,” FRIDAY announced.

Rhodey stood up. “You coming?”

I hesitated. I didn’t wanna upset her.

“You’re coming,” Rhodey ordered. “Come on. It’ll be good for you.”

I didn’t wanna argue, so I got up and walked back to the medical wing with him.

MJ looked…sick. Her skin was shiny with sweat, and her hands were shaking.

I stood in the doorway while Rhodey and Mr. Stark sat next to her. After a few minutes, she started to look a little green.

Mr. Stark realized that I was hanging back, and came over to talk to me.

“They did a blood test. There’s heroin in her system.” His voice was cold and bitter. He was scarily angry.

“Oh.”

“So we’ve gotta keep an eye on her for about a week because she’ll be going through withdrawal.”

“She was in there for twenty-four hours. How’d he get her addicted to heroin?”

Mr. Stark shrugged, running a hand over his face tiredly. It was late and we’d had a long day, I couldn’t blame him. “Doctor Cho said it’s likely he didn’t let her come down from the high at all. Heroin’s highly addictive, too, so that…doesn’t help.”

I looked past him at her. She had her eyes closed, moaning in pain quietly. Rhodey’s hand was on her arm, comforting her.

“You should come sit with her,” Mr. Stark said. “She was asking about you.”

I looked down. “I don’t wanna upset her.”

Mr. Stark glanced back at MJ, then put his hands on my upper arms, looking back to me. “She’s not really letting me touch her or care for her. I’m hoping she’ll let you.”

“She hates me,” I whispered. “I’m the reason she got hurt.”

“She doesn’t hate you. Just try. Five minutes.”

He patted my arm and then walked past me. Rhodey seemed to catch on, and left the room, too.

I realized I couldn’t speak. I wanted to tell her how sorry I was, how much I wish I could’ve saved her or taken her place or anything, but there was a thick lump in my throat. I could barely breathe.

She didn’t say anything, either, staring at me with big eyes.

We were frozen, like time had stopped, and we were the only two people in this compound. I wanted to touch her, just to let her know I was here and I still loved her, no matter what Gargan had told her, but I didn’t wanna scare her.

“I just wanted to see you for a second,” MJ finally croaked out. Her voice was raspy and choked. “You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.”

My heart shattered, a million tiny pieces scattering throughout my body. It was this sharp pain that hit me, right in the chest, and made my whole body feel cold.

I took a breath and stepped forwards, slowly, so I didn’t scare her.

“Peter, you should go to bed,” she breathed, still giving me those big eyes.

“I just…I don’t wanna leave you,” I whispered, fighting back tears. “I don’t wanna let you out of my sight ever again.”

She didn’t say anything.

“How are you feeling?” I asked, keeping my voice soft, words slow.

And that’s when she finally broke eye contact, dropping her gaze to her IV. “Fine.”

“MJ, I know that’s not true.”

She hesitated. “I feel awful.” Her voice was quiet, scared, like it had been last time, but worse.

I sat down on the edge of the bed. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t wanna bother you about it, Doctor Cho already-”

“Love, please just tell me what’s bothering you.”

She flinched on “love”, like it was something foreign.

“Please?” I pleaded, one more time, knowing full well I shouldn’t be pushing her. I put a hand on hers, but she jerked it away.

Right. It didn’t matter how much I loved her, she hated me.

“Sorry,” I mumbled, getting up.

She didn’t say anything, but when I looked at her, there were tears welling in her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” I said again, louder this time. “I’ll…I’ll leave you alone. I’m sorry. You can- you can tell FRIDAY if you want me to come back in a while…if you want.”

The tears spilled over, streaking down her face.

I left the room, choking out a sob the second the door closed behind me.

“Hey, hey hey hey,” Mr. Stark said, coming over. “What happened?”

“She- she hates me, and I knew that already, but-but-”

“Peter,” Mr. Stark said, voice going soft as he pulled me into a hug.

I felt like a little kid again, going to Uncle Ben after a long day of being picked on. I fell against Mr. Stark’s chest, sobs wracking my whole body painfully.

Mr. Stark ran his hands up and down my back soothingly. “Hey, kid, it’s gonna be okay. We knew she was going to be a little jumpy.”

“She- she wasn’t jumpy, she just didn’t want me to touch her.”

“She’s been associating all touch with pain, Peter.”

“She let _you_ touch her.”

Mr. Stark went quiet. I pulled away, wiping my face dry with my sleeves.

“I’m just gonna-”

“Peter.” He said it firmly, and it grounded my feet to the floor. “She let me touch her because I’m her dad, okay? I was one of the first people to ever hold her. It’s different. It’s not that she doesn’t love you, it’s just that she’s…not MJ right now.”

I sniffled, looking at the floor. “She should hate me, though. I let her- I let her go.”

Mr. Stark’s face was unreadable for a moment. I thought he was angry, but then he just sighed. “Don’t you think that of all people, I’d be the first one to place blame in this situation? I’m- trust me, kid, you’re the last person I blame. Even May said that you couldn’t have done better unless you were in the suit, and we made sure you didn’t have the suit for _this exact reason_.”

“You shouldn’t have protected me over her.”

He looked like he wanted to yell at me, but he didn’t. His voice got really low and soft. “I should’ve just had one of my suits with you two. That would’ve protected you.”

“No, no, Mr. Stark, it’s not your fault-”

“I know it’s not my fault. It’s Gargan’s fault, and I swear to god I’m gonna pull his teeth out one by one.” He’d started speaking through gritted teeth, fists clenched at his sides.

I stared up at him, scared.

He seemed to realize he’d spooked me, and took a breath. “Sorry, Peter. You should go get some rest. I’ll keep an eye on MJ.”

He patted my shoulder as he walked past me into the room.

I went upstairs, fully intending to go to my room, but I passed MJ’s and looked into the empty room. The bed was made up, but her drafting table was covered in sketches.

I went inside and sat down in front of her table, picking up the first sketch on it. It was a sketch of two silhouettes, a boy and a girl, separated by a wall. It had her initials at the bottom. MSJ, pen ink swirled gracefully around itself.

I used to fantasize about a P in there somewhere someday. I knew she’d never take my last name, and I didn’t want her to. Michelle Jones had a good ring to it. But Parker being slotted in somewhere…it made my chest feel light and fluffy.

But that was never gonna happen now. I’d failed her, so I’d lost that hope.

It was weird, knowing it was over without her ever telling me.

I didn’t think that no matter the outcome, I’d never get to hold her again, never get to hold her hand under the table at lunch, never get to lean over and kiss her cheek during decathlon meetings and cause everyone else in the room to groan.

I’d probably never make her smile again. I’d never see that bright smile, the one that was just for me.

I kept going through the art. The next three sketches were…different. Darker. One with a girl holding a knife to her stomach, but the tip of the blade was broken off. The girl’s face was in shadow, but the curls falling over the shoulders were a telltale sign of a self-portrait. The next sketch was of a girl with no face, but jagged blue marks in the shape of a smile. Electricity. The last one was of a couple, standing at the edge of water. The boy had his hands on the girl’s hips, and her head was tilted back against him, but in the reflection, the boy had one arm around her neck, and was holding a gun to her head.

As much as I was in awe of her abilities as an artist, I was scared. Because I knew every one of those girls was meant to be her, and both of those boys was meant to be me.

And this was all drawn in the last two weeks. Which meant it’d be worse now.

I realized there were tears spilling over onto my cheeks again, so I put the sketched down. I told myself I’d just lay down on the bed for a few minutes, until I got up the energy to go to my own room.

Curled up in her mass of pillows, and hugging myself, I cried myself to sleep. I didn’t mean to by any means, but I started crying and I couldn’t stop and I eventually just…passed out.


	9. the alternate ending.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay just to be clear. this is NOT where the story ends. pretty much forget this ever happened when I put up the next chapter, bc nothing that happens in this chapter affects anything going forward. chapter 10 will pick up where 8 left off. this was just a depressing idea for how it could end, but the actual ending will have all of your faves safe and sound, I can assure you.  
> that being said, please prep some tissues, bc I cried writing this whole thing

_\---Peter---_

It took a night of crying on MJ’s bed to make me realize exactly how much Gargan needed to pay. He had to pay for all of it. For scaring her family, for scarring her, for ruining us.

We were supposed to graduate together, go to college or university together, have long nights of studying and cuddling together. We were supposed to get married someday, adopt about a million puppies, have kids.

God, we were supposed to have kids, but she couldn’t have them anymore.

She’d never pee on a stick, and come out of the bathroom, telling me in shock that it was positive. I’d never feel her belly for a kicking baby. I’d never speak softly to her belly, telling our child how much I loved them already. I’d never hold her hand while she screamed during labour, never wipe the sweat off of her forehead and tell her, “You’re doing amazing, love, just one more push.”

All of it was over.

And if I couldn’t take MJ’s pain away, or take her place in that basement, or make it all better, I was going to prove to Mr. Stark that I was worth a place on the team.

I was going to avenge her.

The wound in my ribs was the first obstacle. Since I’d been patched up in the van, I hadn’t gotten the full Cradle treatment.

So, first thing on today’s to-do list: talk to Dr. Cho.

I went downstairs, and headed towards the medical wing. I found Dr. Cho in her office, looking at the results of a blood test.

I knocked on the door frame, and she spun around in her chair.

“Mr. Parker, how may I help you?”

I lifted up my shirt, showing her the bandage around my midsection. “Do you- do you mind patching me up properly, now that we’re back here?”

She nodded. “Of course. Sorry, I was going to make sure we did that once we got MJ stable, but it’s been kind of a whirlwind-”

“It’s-it’s okay,” I assured her.

She took off the bandage and cleaned the wound again. It stung a little, and I winced, but it was nothing compared to what I’d seen MJ go through on that operating table. I could handle this if she could handle that.

Dr. Cho had me lay down in the Cradle, and it started to whir around me.

“Alright, Peter, just stay still while it repairs the wound.”

I gave her a reassuring smile.

Honestly, it was weirdly cooling. And the sensation of being healed from the inside out, rather that just being stitched up was welcome.

It didn’t take as long as I thought, either. Or maybe I was occupying my mind with how I was going to kill Gargan, and didn’t notice the passage of time as much. In any case, Dr. Cho was helping me out of the Cradle and examining my ribcage before I knew it. She ran her fingers over the skin.

“You’re good to go. Make sure you drink some water, though, Peter. You lost a decent amount of blood.”

I gave her a thumbs up. “Got it. Thank you.”

“No problem.”

I left the medical wing, went to the kitchen to eat breakfast, then went upstairs to my room. My suit was packed away in a drawer, but I pulled it out. I undressed, put the suit on, and then pulled my clothes over it.

“FRIDAY, can you tell Mr. Stark I wanna go to school for the afternoon?”

“Are you sure, Peter? MJ’s still-”

“I’m sure.”

I zipped up a hoodie over my suit, gathered my stuff for school, and went back downstairs.

Mr. Stark was at the bottom of the stairs.

“Listen, kid, I know you’re struggling with all of this, but I think it’s best if you get the notes from Ned and just work from here.”

I shook my head. “MJ isn’t going to want to see me anyways. It’ll just be less painful for me if I’m not here. At least I can distract myself at school.”

Mr. Stark softened. “Okay. I’ll have Happy take you. Did you eat?”

I nodded.

“Okay.”

“I’m just gonna…go see MJ for a sec, if that’s alright.”

Mr. Stark nodded. “Of course.”

I went past him to the medical wing. Her door was open a crack, so I gently pushed it open.

“Hey,” I said, voice small. “Can I come in?”

“Sure.”

I came in and sat down on the edge of the bed. “I’m, um, I’m gonna go into the city for a while.”

“Are you going to school?” she asked softly.

I nodded. “I just…I don’t want you to think it’s- I want to stay here with you, but I- I know you need space, and I’m gonna lose my mind just sitting in my room all day when I should be _doing_ something-”

She seemed to catch on, tilting her head and narrowing her eyes at me. “What are you talking about, Peter?”

“Nothing, nothing, it’s just…everything’s fine, MJ.”

She looked skeptical, but didn’t press.

“Anyways, um, I should go. I don’t wanna keep Happy waiting.”

She nodded. “Okay.”

I stood up, and for a split second, I realized that the next time I saw her I could be really beaten up.

“Can I- can I kiss you goodbye?”

MJ gave me the biggest, softest eyes. “Yeah.”

I leaned in and kissed her, just a peck.

“I’ll see you tonight. I love you.”

She looked down. “Okay. Come home safe.”

I left the room, closing the door softly behind myself.

Happy was waiting for me at the front.

“Okay, kid, let’s go.”

We got in the car, and headed into the city.

I stared out the window the whole time. It felt like kind of a life-changing moment.

If I could kill Gargan, it’d make me an Avenger, right? Because that’s what Avengers do. Avenge. Right wrongs. Make the bad guys pay.

We pulled up outside the school.

“Alright, kid, text me if you need anything.”

“Got it. Thanks, Happy.”

I got out of the car, giving him a smile and wave before he headed off.

Once he was around the corner, I called Ned.

“Peter, is it MJ? Is she okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine. I just need a favour.”

“What’s going on?”

“I’m, um, I’m outside Midtown. I’m gonna track down Gargan. I need you to take my backpack and clothes for me.”

“Uh, Peter, this sounds dangerous. He tortured MJ for information on you.”

“Exactly,” I responded. “Listen, you’re physics right now, right? I’ll just meet you in the hallway outside the classroom.”

Ned sighed, breath distorted by the phone. “Okay. Fine. But promise me you’re just tracking him down, you’re not gonna do anything MJ or May wouldn’t approve of.”

“Promise,” I lied, heading into the school. “I’ll be there in two seconds.”

I headed in, made sure nobody saw me dip into a bathroom to take off my street clothes, stuff everything into my backpack, pulled my mask on, and headed down to Ned’s classroom. He was already waiting outside, holding a comically large hall pass.

“Hey, man, thank you so much,” I said, handing him my backpack.

“Yeah, yeah, just come check in with me in a few hours, okay? I’m a little nervous about you going after someone who wants you dead.”

“You sound like May.”

“May’s usually right.”

I sighed. “Okay. I’ll be careful. I’ll see you later, alright?”

“See you.”

I slipped out the nearest window, and began swinging around the city.

_\---MJ---_

It was…off. Or maybe I was off. My head was foggy and I wasn’t thinking quite straight but…

This was flimsy evidence, but that wasn’t how Peter normally kissed me.

It wasn’t how he normally acted, period.

“FRIDAY?”

“Yes?”

“You can track Peter’s phone, right? And the suit?”

“Yes.”

“Where is he? Is he at school? Are his suit and phone in the same location?”

“He is not at school, he’s about four blocks away from it. His suit and phone are both with him.”

I hesitated, taking it all in.

“Would you like me to inform your father?” FRIDAY asked.

I didn’t want Peter to hate me. “No, that’s okay.”

Peter was probably just patrolling to let off some steam, anyways.

_\---Peter---_

I’d been following him for about an hour now. Gargan got a hot dog from a street vendor, and had been strolling through Queens ever since.

I was mostly just waiting for a good back alley to pull him into.

That opportunity came not too long after he bought the hot dog. He finished the hot dog, and tossed out the wrapped, which meant his guard was let down for a moment. I dropped down from my web and tackled him, the two of us rolling into a back alley.

I could pinpoint the exact moment he realized who I was.

He looked at me, and his eyes widened for a fifth of a second, then he scrambled for his waistband. I tried to pin his arms down, but he managed to flip on top of me. He pulled a knife out of his jacket.

“Thanks for falling right into my lap,” he sneered.

And then he stabbed me in the chest, over and over and over. I cried out for help, but none came.

“Vitals critically low,” Karen told me, her artificial voice concerned and distorted.

My chest burned as the knife plunged into it again. And the blood. There was so much blood. It was spraying out every time he lifted the knife.

“Turn on- turn on instant kill mode,” I gasped.

But the suit was damaged. Karen was dead.

In a last, desperate attempt to save myself, I lifted my hand to shoot a web at Gargan, but my heads-up display went out, leaving me in the dark.

I gasped for breath, choking on my own blood as it bubbled up in my throat. I was so cold. All I wanted was to curl up with MJ and fall asleep.

  1. I’d failed MJ.



I deserved this ending.

_\---MJ---_

“Delivery for Michelle Jones at the front door,” FRIDAY announced.

Uncle Rhodes looked at me.

“Can I go?” I asked, voice small.

He looked at me. I was walking alright. He’d been helping me walk since Peter had left this morning.

“Yeah, sure. Do you want me to stay with you, in case you need help?”

I shook my head. “I feel okay.”

He nodded. “I’ll be here if you need me.”

I headed off towards the front door, only faltering a little. Whatever drugs they’d given me to counteract my withdrawal symptoms and pain were working miracles.

I opened it, and nothing could’ve prepared me for what I saw.

Peter, laying on the ground. The mask had been taken off of him, and I could see exactly how pale and lifeless his face was.

And the blood.

His suit was soaked in it. Dark and dried, coming from about a million stab wounds in his chest.

I fell to my knees.

“Peter, Peter, no, Peter, you’re- Peter, wake up. Peter, please. This isn’t funny, this isn’t funny, this isn’t funny.”

I was crouched over him now, desperately feeling his neck for a pulse, but there was nothing, and his skin was cold.

And then I was screaming and crying. And all I remember is being pulled off of him, seeing Dad hunch over his body before scooping it up and carrying him inside.

I was crying too hard to breathe, and then I was throwing up until there was nothing left, dry heaving until my body couldn’t take it anymore, and I collapsed.

I remember Aunty Nat carrying me upstairs, helping me brush my teeth, and stroking my hair as I wept.

I didn’t tell him I loved him.

And he didn’t listen when I told him to come home safe.

When I thought I’d never see Peter again, it was fine, because I’d be spared the pain of living without him.

But nothing Gargan had ever done or said to me…none of it could compare to this.

I’d take a million lashes or spikes or nails if it meant one more kiss from Peter.

I was curled up in my bed, a mess of blanked and pillows, wearing one of Peter’s sweaters. Aunty Nat curled herself around me, trying to soothe me. But I was crying too hard to breathe, to sleep.

And then all at once, I stilled. There were still tears on my face, and I still felt…shattered. But I was too exhausted to deal with it all.

“You should get some rest,” Aunty Nat said. Her voice was heavy with grief.

“I want him,” I whispered. “I want him to cuddle me and kiss me goodnight and tell me he loves me. And he’ll never do that again.”

She stroked me hair. “I know, Mishy, I know.”

I sobbed again, turning my face into her shirt. “Why does Gargan have to keep hurting me?” I choked out. “I need it to stop. I need it to be okay again.”

She held me tighter. “I’m so sorry.”

\---

The sun eventually rose again. I had the world’s worst headache from the amount of crying I’d done. Natasha had dark circles to rival the moon’s craters from staying up with me all night. I didn’t even want to know what I looked like.

This was it. My first day without him. The first day in years I wouldn’t have the comfort of knowing he was somewhere, being Peter, being the amazing boy I fell in love with.

I wanted to kiss him one last time and tell him I love him and-and I needed him. He was the one to pick me up and save me from Gargan both times. He was the one who tried to stop Gargan. He was the one to stay with me every night that I asked him to.

And he was gone. We were gonna dress him up and pack him in wood and bury him. I’d be leaving flowers at his grave every year on his birthday, rather than watching him blow out candles with that huge, adorable grin on his face.

It didn’t feel real.

I wanted to run into his room and wake him up and tell him I’d make him breakfast. I wanted him to give me that sleepy smile and let me pull him out of bed.

God, that didn’t exist anymore. I’d never have another morning like that again.

I sat at the kitchen counter, prodding the toaster waffle Uncle Rhodey had warmed up and buttered and lathered in syrup. I stared through it, numb.

So, so numb.

“Mishy,” Aunty Nat whispered, “you have to eat.”

I didn’t respond. I didn’t know how to respond. The idea of eating right now made my whole body feel gross.

“Mishy,” she tried again.

“Where’s Dad?” I asked. My voice came out croaky.

Nat and Rhodey exchanged a look.

“Where is he?” I asked again.

Uncle Rhodey just shook his head.

“We’re not really allowed to tell you, Mishy.” She put her hand on my back, trying to comfort me, but I flinched.

“But you know where he is?”

Uncle Rhodey gave me a weird look. “More or less.”

“What does that mean?”

“Listen, it’s…complicated.”

“Peter just _died_ and now my dad’s missing, what’s complicated about that?” I snapped.

“He’s…taking care of something.” His words were measured carefully, spoken slowly as he gauged my reaction.

I just turned back to my untouched waffle, poking it with my fork.

“MJ, he lost Peter, too,” Uncle Rhodes said gently.

Anger bubbled up in my chest, and I exploded. I threw the plate, shattering it against the fridge.

“I fucking know!”

“Mishy-”

“Don’t _fucking_ Mishy me! I should’ve fucking died in that basement and then all of you would’ve been fine! I knew Peter was in the suit and I didn’t tell Dad! It’s my fucking fault he’s dead, okay?” I shouted, voice getting louder and higher as I went. I breathed hard when I finished.

Aunty Nat stared at me. Uncle Rhodes dropped his gaze to the floor.

I left the room, running upstairs to residence and into Peter’s room, collapsing on his bed, crying hard.

How could I? How could I be so stupid as to put my feelings above his safety? How could I let him go without telling him how much I loved him?

I should’ve held his hand in the van. I pushed him away, thinking he wouldn’t want me anymore, but I shouldn’t have. I should’ve told him to stay in my room with me, told him to lay down on the bed and hold me.

I kept thinking of all the nights I’d fallen asleep at his desk. He’d wake me up gently and help me into bed. May would always check on us before she went to sleep, too.

Oh my god.

May.

She had to know. She was probably here, at the compound.

Part of me wanted to see her and hug her and apologize over and over and over and over.

Part of me didn’t wanna face her. Because she’d hate me.

I could’ve saved him, if I’d just told FRIDAY to tell Dad.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. It was a text from Ned.

Ned: I heard

Ned: call me

Ned: please

So I did. He answered on the first ring, sniffling.

“Hey,” he said, sounding like he’d been crying all night.

“You sound awful,” I teased, but it didn’t come off light or funny. It was just true.

“Yeah. So…Mr. Stark called me last night and…he told me what happened.”

I held back a sob. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t- it’s not your fault.”

“Yes, it is. I- he only did it because of me. And I knew he was out in the suit and I didn’t do anything-”

“He gave me his backpack,” Ned interrupted. “He came into the school and gave me his backpack and told me he’d be careful but-”

He cried for a second, then sniffled, pulling himself together.

“I shouldn’t have helped him. I knew it was dangerous, I knew he-he could get hurt.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I could’ve told you. Or Mr. Stark.”

“That’s not your responsibility.”

“It’s not yours, either.”

I sighed. “I don’t know what to do without him.”

“Me neither.”

I started to cry again.

“MJ, I don’t know how you’re coping with any of this. Weren’t you on the verge of death, like, two days ago? And now this…”

I laughed, bitterly. “I’m not coping. At all. I feel like shit.”

“Yeah, Mr. Stark said something about withdrawal.”

“Gargan gave me a few doses of heroin, and now I’m going through withdrawal.”

“Jesus. I’m so sorry, MJ.”

“It’s…it’ll be okay. Doctor Cho is helping me detox, so I don’t feel too bad. I don’t like the…craving, though.”

“Craving?”

“Yeah. I don’t know. It’s hard to explain.”

There was a long pause.

“MJ?”

“Yeah?”

“It felt like a nightmare. I thought I was gonna wake up this morning and he’d be texting me updates about you. I just…I can’t…he and I have been friends for forever. I can’t imagine a world without him, you know? I thought I was going to live without him after that night with Liz’s dad but after that…I let myself feel too secure. I forgot how dangerous his job actually is- was,” he corrected. “Was.”

I bit my lip. “It feels like he’s the only person who can make it better, too. Like, he was the only person I felt really, truly safe around for a week or two there. And all I want is him to stay with me so I can feel safe. But he’s gone.”

“Yeah.”

“Did I tell you my dad’s gone? He disappeared yesterday after we brought P-Peter in and nobody’s telling me where he is.”

Ned hesitated. “Did he say goodbye to you?”

“No.”

“Holy shit, MJ. I really don’t know how you’re dealing with any of this.”

“Trust me, if it weren’t for the fact that Doctor Cho said it’d probably kill me, I’d be emptying the liquor cabinet.”

Ned snorted. “Can I join you?”

“Absolutely.”

For a brief moment, it didn’t hurt as bad. Because I had Ned, no matter what. Neither of us was as close as we had been to Peter, but we just needed someone who understood how bad it hurt, and who better than each other?

The conversation didn’t last much longer. I was drained and numb and I just wanted to sleep it off. Ned understood, and made me promise to text him later so he knew I was somewhat okay.

Once we were off the phone, I crawled under the covers into Peter’s bed, pulling the blankets up to my face and breathing in.

I dreaded the day these covers didn’t smell like him anymore.

For now, I turned onto my side, hugging a pillow to my chest and crying.

\---

The next time I saw Dad was at the funeral. He looked pale and sunken, like he hadn’t been eating or sleeping. Classic Dad.

Since he’d died, it’d been revealed that he was Spider-Man. I wasn’t sure if that was Dad or Pepper or May, but I knew it wasn’t Ned that spilled the beans on that one. We’d found out at the same time, while we were on the phone and we both got a text from Flash.

There was a large memorial in the city. I’d spoken at the memorial, given a short speech on how wonderful he was. Talked about how caring and smart he was. I couldn’t talk for more than a few minutes before I choked up, and had to wrap it up. Ned, Pepper, Happy, and May spoke, too. It was the first time I’d ever seen Pepper or Happy cry.

The funeral, however, was small. The Avengers, May, and the decathlon team. A teacher or two showed up as well.

They’d put Peter in a suit in the casket. He had so much makeup on that he really just looked like he was asleep. I had to fight the urge to touch him, to try to wake him up. When I went up to the casket and looked at him, my throat closed up, my fingers gripped the edge of the casket, and my knees threatened to give out. I had to turn away. Betty had been right behind me, so she gently pulled me away and we sat back down.

I was a mess the whole way through the funeral. I cried silently through each speech, relying on Betty’s purse full of Kleenex to get me through.

When I got up to give my own eulogy, I was shaking. Every word came out broken and shaky and croaky. I didn’t sound like myself. Tears ran down my face, and I had to keep sniffling and wiping at my cheeks. At the end of my eulogy, I put two things in his casket. The first was a keychain he’d bought me on the Europe trip last year. The second was the wax seal from the birthday card I’d painted him for his birthday last year, red and blue wax with the Spider-Man emblem stamped into it. Both cheesy and overly sentimental, but they were things I wanted him to have. I tucked them both into one of his hands, closing his cold, stiff fingers around them afterwards.

I sat back down with Betty and rested my head on her shoulder, closing my eyes.

And then my dad’s voice echoed through the funeral home.

Every word was heavy with guilt, grief, anguish. I couldn’t look at him, because I knew he’d look as bad as he sounded, and I wouldn’t be able to handle that.

I wanted to stop him and tell him that I needed him, just for a few minutes, to tell me everything was going to be okay. I needed him to pretend, just for a moment.

I needed my dad.

After the funeral and the burial, when Happy was leading me to the car, May stopped me with a hand on my shoulder.

I couldn’t meet her eyes.

“MJ, how have you been holding up?”

I pressed my lips together and shook my head. “I’m not, really.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” she asked, her voice painfully gentle.

I sniffled as tears spilled over onto my cheeks for the millionth time today. “No, you don’t- you don’t owe me anything. It’s my fault he’s gone, anyways, May. You-you should hate me.”

“What makes you think that?”

“I- I knew he was in the suit. I asked FRIDAY and then when FRIDAY asked if she should tell Dad I said no because-because I didn’t want him to get in trouble because of me, be-because I was so scared he’d hate me, and n-now-”

May pulled me into a hug, and I cried into her cardigan. “It’s not your fault, sweetie.” She ran one hand over the back of my head, stroking my hair.

“I’m sorry I’m crying all over you,” I mumbled.

“It’s okay. Don’t worry about it. It’s just fabric.” She pulled away and looked at me, holding my face gently so I’d look at her, the same way she’d done to Peter a million times. “You know you’re welcome to stay with me whenever you want, right? I’ll need the company, now that I’m living alone.”

I sniffled, forcing a smile. “Thank you.”

She smiled back at me. “Of course, sweetie. You should go home, but call me if you wanna talk, okay?”

I nodded. “Okay.”

I went back to Happy, pulling my sleeve down over my hand so I could wipe my face.

“Do you wanna go to McDonald’s and get some ice cream on the way out of town?” Happy asked. His face was blotchy from crying. He needed this just as much as I did.

I nodded. “That’d be wonderful.”

We stopped at a McDonald’s on our way out of the city, and sat down inside, each with big McFlurries. I always got Oreo, and Happy always got Skor. We ate in silence for a long time, before Happy spoke.

“I wish I’d answered his texts.”

I looked at him, and saw tears gathered in his eyes.

“He just wanted to help out more, and I wrote him off as annoying for so long. I should’ve been more patient.”

I gave him a soft smile. “He knew you loved him.”

Happy sniffed. “I hope so. I wish I could tell him one more time.”

“Me too.”

He sniffed one more time, with a bit of finality. “Okay. Let’s get back on the road.”

We took our ice cream and got back in the car. I’d hold his cup out so he could eat a spoonful upon request. We mostly just listened to a podcast and didn’t talk.

When we got home, I went up to my room and went through all of my photos with him and put them in a folder. I came across one, from a party, where we’re both drunk. He’s wearing the NASA sweater I never got back from that basement, and I’m wearing the same dress as the one I wore today. It’s a long black t-shirt dress, one I always wore when I didn’t know what else to wear to events. Today I’d dressed it up a little with heels and one of Mom’s necklaces. That day, it was dressed down with sneakers and a red cup full of beer.

In the picture, I was grinning at the camera, one arm draped around Peter’s shoulder and neck, one hand holding up the cup. Peter had one arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me against his waist, one hand tucking some hair behind my ear. He was smiling at me, cheeks and nose rosy from the alcohol.

He was never gonna smile at me like that again, or hold me like that again.

I kept going through photos of us. There was one I knew Ned had taken at Peter’s birthday party. It was here at the compound. Ned and I had planned a whole surprise, and Peter’s face had lit up when we all jumped out to scream _“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”_ at him. This particular photo was taken after we’d had cake. Peter had shouted at Ned to take a picture of us. He’d pulled me towards him by my hands and kissed me. Our fingers were intertwined by our sides, our whole bodies pressed together. You could see the smiles on both of our faces, despite us kissing.

I found a photo Betty had taken of us in Europe, by the elevators in the hotel. Both of us are leaning towards each other, looking like we desperately want to touch the other, giving each other small smiles. That was the day he asked me out. Right after that moment, he’d kissed my cheek, and I’d felt my heart melt inside my chest.

Then the last photo of us. It was a selfie Peter had taken of us when he was drunk on rum and Coke. He’s grinning at the camera, and I’m looking at him adoringly, like he’s my whole world.

He was. Undoubtedly.

I put my phone down and decided I needed a walk. I left the residence wing and headed down to Dad’s workshop, hoping he’d finally come home.

The workshop was a mess. My suit wasn’t in the display at the back, and chunks of metal in my colours were spread out across several table tops, among a million screwdrivers and hammers and wrenches.

I could hear his voice coming from…one of the walls.

“FRIDAY, where’s Dad?”

“I’m not authorized to tell you that.”

I huffed, and approached the wall it was coming from. I pressed my ear to it, trying to make out words, and leaned against the cement. Something click, and the wall swung open.

Door. That was a hidden door.

I stumbled into the room. It was divided in half by a wall, a huge window taking up the upper half of it.

Gargan was on the other side of the wall, strapped to a chair, covered in blood.

“MJ, you’re not supposed to be in here.”

I looked at Dad, feeling my eyes widen. I felt a shiver coming up my spine. “What the hell is this?” God, he was even still wearing his suit from the funeral.

“Honey, please, sit down in the workshop, and we can talk about this.”

“I-I- you’re-” I could feel my chest squeezing, my throat closing up. I was trying desperately to breathe, but I was terrified. I couldn’t get a breath in.

Dad stepped forward, and I jumped back.

“Don’t touch me.”

“MJ-”

“Don’t _fucking_ look at me. You’re a monster.”

“MJ!”

I ran out of the…torture chamber, and out of the workshop. I could hear Dad following me, footsteps heavy.

“MJ, please, talk to me-”

“No!”

I felt his hand on my arm, and I jerked away, throwing myself off balance. I fell, spinning as I did, landing on my ass and facing Dad.

“I need you to calm down-”

“Is that what you’ve been doing since Peter died?” I shouted.

He stepped towards me, and I scrambled back. “Well, yes- MJ, just- please listen to me.”

“I needed you!” I shouted, standing up. “I needed you so badly.”

He reached for me again, and I flinched away.

“Don’t touch me,” I snapped. “Don’t touch me with the same hands you’re using to torture someone.”

He backed off, looking down. “Honey, I-”

I didn’t wait for him to finish. I ran upstairs and back up to my room, closing the door and locking it. I pulled out my suitcase and a duffel bag and started packing up. Most of the clothes I threw in were Peter’s sweaters. I packed up my art supplies and toiletries and everything I could think of.

As I was opening the cupboard in the bathroom, I realized I wouldn’t need to pack tampons.

I opened the door, and Dad was standing there, arms crossed. Panic shot through my body.

“Get away from me,” I said, voice coming out smaller than I wanted.

“Just talk to me for a minute.”

“What could you possibly say to me? You’re just as bad as him.”

“He hurt you!” Dad shouted, and I stepped back, afraid. “He killed Peter. He deserves this.”

“Who cares? Just turn him over to the police and let it go!”

Dad shook his head. “It’s not enough.”

I stared at him for a moment, tears brimming in my eyes, blurring my vision. “Please just let me go,” I whispered.

Dad looked at me, his face a mix of shock and despair, and then he stepped aside. I walked past him, pulling my suitcase behind me.

He didn’t follow me down the stairs, or to the garage. He let me go.

I drove to the city, playing _Only You_ on repeat.

I pulled up to an apartment building in Brooklyn, and sent a text. I was buzzed in a moment later.

I went upstairs, knocking on the door of an apartment with one hand and adjusting the strap of the duffle bad with the other.

Uncle Steve opened the door. He was still wearing the button-down and slacks from the funeral, but had ditched the tie and jacket.

“Can I- can I stay with you for a while?”

He looked at me, then at my suitcase, then at me. “I take it you found out about Gargan?”

I nodded.

“Come here, kiddo.”

He pulled me into the apartment, and into a tight hug. After a moment, he let me go.

“Here, I’ll show you to your room. It’s not as cushy as the one back at the compound-”

“That’s fine. I don’t care. As long as it’s not…”

“I know.”

He led me to his guest bedroom, the one that had been Sam’s before Sam got his own apartment a few months ago. I unpacked, and then joined him out in the living room. He was watching the news.

“Do you want something to eat? Or tea? Oh, or I have some hot chocolate mix-”

I got off the couch. “I can-”

“No, MJ, sit down. Let me.” His voice was kind but firm, leaving no room for argument. I took my seat on the couch again. “Hot chocolate? You like it with milk, right?”

I nodded. “Thanks, Steve.”

“Of course.”

He squeezed my shoulder gently before heading into the kitchen. The news was covering some school shooting in South Dakota.

“So, you knew about…Dad’s torture chamber?” I turned and looked over the back of the couch, into the kitchen. Steve nodded.

“It’s- it’s- I wish I could’ve told you, MJ, I really do. But Tony-”

“He’s powerful. I know.”

“I’m sorry.”

I shook my head. “It’s not your fault.”

Steve sighed. “He found Gargan the same night Peter died. He went into kind of a frenzy. Nat and Rhodey had to keep Gargan restrained while your dad built that…room. As far as I know, he made a list of everything Gargan did to you that he knows of, and is making his way through it.”

My stomach did a flip. “I- I know it’s stupid, because he was the Merchant of Death, so I really shouldn’t be-”

“No, I know. This is different. It’s personal and cruel and brutal.”

“Yeah,” I breathed.

Steve brought my mug over, and sat down on the coffee table so he could face me.

“Listen, you know that your dad and I have our differences.”

I snorted. “Yeah, just a little.”

“But I know he’s a good man at heart. I just…I think he’s going off the rails. Peter was like a son to him, you know? He’s a wreck.”

“Was,” I whispered.

“What?”

“It’s- it’s just weird. Saying ‘was’ in relation to Peter.”

Steve gave me a sympathetic look. “I know. I’m so sorry, MJ.”

\---

The next few days were hard. I tried to go back to school a couple times, but I could never make it through more than an hour or two. Dad called me incessantly, sent me constant texts.

That’s how I knew he wasn’t sleeping. They didn’t stop at night, never for more than half an hour.

I spent a night at May’s, sleeping in Peter’s bed. I cried the whole night, to the point where May came into the room to make sure I was okay. After that point, if I spent a night at May’s, I slept on the couch.

One night, as Steve and I were cooking, I realized I hadn’t gotten a text from Dad in an hour.

I picked up my phone and called Pepper.

“Hi, MJ, how are you doing?” she answered, sounding concerned.

“I’m okay. Steve’s a good roommate.”

She laughed lightly. “I bet. Do you need anything? I can get you the rest of your stuff if you need it.”

“No, no, that’s okay. I just…Dad’s been calling me and messaging me constantly since I left, and now he’s stopped. Do you- do you know where he is?”

Pepper hesitated. “I don’t know, I’ve been in my office working all evening. I’ll call him.”

“Thank you.”

She hung up.

Steve looked at me. “You feeling okay?”

I nodded. “I’m sure he’s fine. He probably just got really focused on working.”

A few hours passed without an update. In that time, Steve and I made dinner, ate, and watched documentary. Then there was a knock at the door.

“I got it,” Steve grunted, getting up.

Pepper was standing there, eyes and nose red, mascara smudged under her eyes.

I stood up, and joined Steve in the doorway.

“MJ, I- I don’t know how to say this-”

But I knew. The sinking feeling in my stomach was the same as when I touched Peter’s neck and realized he was dead.

“Dad’s gone, isn’t he?” I whispered.

Pepper nodded. I hugged her tightly, and then Steve wrapped his arms around both of us.

“Alcohol poisoning,” she managed to choke out between sobs. “He drank himself to death.”

Well, at least it was on-brand.

\---

I didn’t come out of my room for days, except to use the bathroom or eat. It felt like there was nothing left.

I could feel myself…deteriorating. I didn’t care about my appearance, hygiene, grades, anything.

I wished, over and over again, that I’d died in the basement.

I stopped sleeping, stopped eating, stopped answering texts and calls from Ned and Betty and the rest of the decathlon team. Nat and Rhodey came by once or twice, but I never spoke to them.

At the worst of it, I had terrible night terrors, panic attacks, flashbacks. One night, I woke up in the middle of the night, and saw Peter sitting at the end of my bed. His face looked flushed, alive, unlike when he’d been dropped at my doorstep. His hair looked like it was wet, like he was fresh out of the shower.

“Peter,” I breathed.

“Hi, love,” he whispered back, smiling. “I’ve missed you.”

“Are you real?” I was scared to reach forward, to feel for myself.

He shrugged. “Does it matter?” Before I could respond, he continued. “You look beautiful.”

“No, I don’t. I look like a mess.”

“You’re always beautiful.”

I let out a sob. “Please come back. I need you.”

He gave me puppy eyes. “I would if I could, MJ, but I don’t belong there anymore.”

I tried hard not to sob again, to hold myself together.

“You could join me,” he whispered.

“What?”

“I can’t…cross over to you, but you can come to me. Please, come to me.”

I realized what he meant. I had to die.

“I-I can’t. Dad’s funeral is tomorrow, and-and the decathlon team needs me, and-”

“New York needed Spider-Man,” he countered softly. “But you’re all still alive.”

I laughed, humourlessly. “Dad couldn’t live without you. I can barely live without you. Ned’s struggling, too.”

He gave me a soft smile. “You don’t have to join me. I just miss you, love. I wanted to see you recover, and graduate, and go to university.”

I breathed shakily, trying not to cry again. “I wanted to graduate with you.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for you,” he told me.

“MJ?” Steve called. “Who are you talking to?”

I looked at the door, and when I looked back, Peter was gone.

Steve opened the door. “Are you okay?”

I broke down in tears. “No.”

\---

The next day, Nick Fury showed up at the door. Steve had called him once I told him about the hallucination. I went with Fury and a couple of SHIELD agents to the funeral.

The funeral was much bigger than Peter’s. I spoke briefly, talking about how he took me in and what a good dad he’d been, leaving out the bit at the end where he tortured Gargan.

I found out afterwards that he’d killed Gargan right before he’d left the compound to go drink in the city.

Fury led me through a crowd of paparazzi after the funeral. I got into the back of his SUV with a few other agents, and we headed to HQ.

“So,” I said, breaking the awkward silence in the car, “what’s the plan, Fury?”

“Do you wanna know?”

“Is there anything you can hit me with that’ll hurt me more than everything else already has?”

“Good point. Promise you won’t fight us on it?”

I sighed. “You’re gonna do it either way, no point in resisting.”

“We’re gonna wipe your most painful memories. The goal is to stop your hallucinations and flashbacks, get you functioning again.”

It wasn’t what I was expecting. Fury eyed me through the rear-view mirror, gauging my reaction.

But forgetting everything? Not staying up at night, thinking about every electric shock or stab wound? Not hearing Gargan’s voice in my head, telling me nobody cared? Not seeing Peter’s dead body in my dreams, suit soaked in dark blood?

I could live with that.

“Okay.”

Fury gave a short nod. “Okay.”

We got to SHIELD HQ and I was escorted up a few floors to an office-type room. Fury sat me down at the desk, and an agent put a helmet on me, clipping it under my chin.

“Are you sure?” Fury asked.

“Erase as much as you want,” I told him. “You have my consent.”

“Alright.”

I felt the helmet start to vibrate, and then everything went black.

\---

I woke up on a couch, feeling numb. Fury was sitting in an office chair in front of me, one his agents standing behind him with a clipboard and a pen.

“Rise and shine, Miss Jones.”

I blinked. “Hi. I’m up.” I sat up. I was a little light-headed, but I was okay.

“You need water, a juice box, maybe some crackers?” Fury asked.

I shook my head. “I feel okay. A little dizzy, but okay.”

Fury nodded, and the agent jotted that down.

“Please state your full name.”

“Michelle Stark Jones.”

“How old are you?”

“Seventeen, eighteen next month.”

“What was your mother’s name?”

“Madeline Jones.”

“You father’s name?”

“Anthony Edward Stark.”

Fury nodded. “Very good. Tell me about your childhood.”

I thought hard, my head pounding a little when I did. “Um, I was the result of a one night stand between Tony Stark and my mom. Mom died of scarlet fever when I was…seven, and then Tony wasn’t granted custody, so Steve Rogers took me in, and I’ve been living with him ever since.”

“Where do you go to school?”

“Midtown Tech.”

“Have you ever been abused?”

“No.”

“Have you ever had a romantic relationship?”

“No.”

Fury nodded. “Okay. We’ll run a longer diagnostic with you tomorrow. For now, go home, get some rest, get ready to go back to school tomorrow.”

I frowned. “Why haven’t I been at school?”

“Your father passed away last week. His funeral was earlier today.”

I remembered parts of it. Flashes. Pepper, giving me a brief but tight hug. May pushing my hair out of my face.

“May,” I breathed. “Who’s May?”

Fury tilted his head. “Tell me what you do know.”

“She’s…kind. Warm. Like a mother, sort of. I’ve stayed with her a few times, on her couch. I don’t know why I know her, or why we’re so close.”

Fury nodded. “May Parker. She’s a friend of your father’s.”

That felt…incomplete, but I guess that was the point.

“Do you have any other questions?”

There felt like there was a…gap. A space, something huge. I had all these memories of parties and friends, and it always felt like something was…blocked.

“No.”

“Call me if you remember anything,” Fury said, standing up. “Steve has my card.”

He walked me to the lobby, where Steve stood. He pulled Steve aside, talking to him. Steve shot me a couple of sad glances during their conversation.

I suppose my father’s funeral was today. Maybe I should’ve been sad, but it’s not like he was my dad, Steve was more of a dad. Tony was just some genetic material involved in my conception, and then a party animal billionaire in the background of my life.

Fury left the lobby, and Steve came back over.

“Okay, kiddo, let’s go home. Fury prescribed water and a nap, so we’ll do that.”

We got into Steve’s car and went back to the apartment.

“How are you feeling, kiddo?”

“Good. I’m kind of woozy but I feel fine, other than that.”

Steve nodded. “Do you remember the funeral?”

“Some of it.”

He scoffed a little, looking out the window. “I know why Fury did it, I just think it’s wrong.”

“Did what?”

He shook his head. “Don’t worry about it, MJ. Let’s just get you into bed.”

We got home, he made me drink some water and eat a banana, and then tucked me into bed.

I wasn’t tired, though, so once he left the room, I started to go through my phone.

I had a couple texts in the decathlon group chat. I answered one of Ned’s questions, and then he asked me if I was okay.

Me: yeah, I’m fine, why

Ned: bc your dad’s funeral was earlier

Me: idk it’s not a huge deal

After he said that, though, I was a little nostalgic. I went into my photos, trying to find photos of Tony and I from my childhood.

The first thing I noticed when I opened my photos app was an empty album named “PP”.

Weird.

I started to go through my photos. There were more from inside the compound than I figured I’d have. I’d only been to the compound a handful of times.

I guess I’d taken more pictures that I thought.

I found a photo of Tony and I from Christmas. I didn’t remember going to the compound for Christmas.

There was one of us from a speech of his. It was dated early February.

I got a flash of memory, of Tony coming off of the stage, me and Pepper telling him he did great.

I’d called him Dad.

That was weird.

I got out of bed and went into the living room. Steve was sitting on the couch, using his laptop.

“Steve?”

He looked up. “Can’t sleep?”

I held up my phone, showing him the photo. “I…shouldn’t have been there.”

Steve stared at me for a minute. “Um, for the time being, I think you should maybe give me your phone. Just…until Fury and I can figure this out.”

“Figure what out? What did he do to me?”

He hesitated. “I-I can’t tell you. But I know you consented. You wanted this.”

“Was it informed consent? Did I know exactly what I was getting myself into?”

“I don’t know the specifics, MJ, I wasn’t there. I assume so.”

I sighed, and handed my phone over. “Okay. If I consented.”

Steve took my phone, and put it on the coffee table. “Get some rest, kiddo.”

I went back into my room and crawled into bed.

\---

_There was metal, sticking out of me. Red arms wrapped around me. I could hear a voice I somehow knew well but also had never heard before._

_It was painful, more painful that anything I’d ever experienced before. I could hear my own voice, whimpering._

_It was weird, and alien, and unfamiliar…_

_Yet somehow, it was familiar at the same time._

\---

I woke up, shaking, sitting up. I was panting, trying to catch my breath.

And then, within a few seconds, I couldn’t remember what I’d been dreaming about.

I laid back down, staring at the wall.

\---

When I got back to school, a couple weeks later, I had to be caught up a little, but then I was fine. There were pictures up of some…kid. He’d died a couple weeks ago, and they’d put his yearbook photo up around school. I didn’t pay much attention for a while, but after a while, I found myself standing in the hallway, when I was going back to class after going to the bathroom.

He was…pretty. All cheekbones and jawline and big, brown eyes. He had this gorgeous curly hair, that I could almost feel between my fingers.

“MJ?”

I turned, and saw Ned. “Hi.”

“Why are you…staring at that?”

I shrugged, looking back at the poster. “I don’t know. I can’t explain it. I’ve never seen him before but…he seems so…familiar.” When I looked back at Ned, he looked heartbroken. “What?”

“I can’t…you…it’s so wrong, hearing you talk about him like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you never knew him.”

I frowned. “But I didn’t. I don’t even know his name.”

Ned sighed. “God, Steve’s gonna kill me for this.” He pulled out his phone, typed for a moment, and then held it out. “Here, watch this.”

It was…me. Standing at a podium at a funeral. His funeral. I was talking, my voice broken and shaky, tears running down my face. I told everyone how caring and kind he was, how I’d give anything to see him smile one more time. I was clearly heartbroken.

“But…I don’t know him.”

“You two were together for ten months. You loved him.”

I shook my head, handing Ned’s phone back to him. “No. No, that’s…that’s not me. I didn’t know him.”

Ned tucked his phone back into his pocket and then grabbed me by the shoulders. “Fury wiped your memory, and Steve told me that I’m not supposed to tell you, but-but MJ, it’s a part of you. Peter is a part of you and Mr. Stark is a part of you-”

“Tony was a deadbeat,” I snapped.

“No, he wasn’t! He bought you your car and he took care of you and he was the best dad. You’ve been living with Steve for, like, two weeks.”

“No, it’s been ten years.”

“Then what did you two do for Christmas of twenty-thirteen? Or for your fifteenth birthday?”

I frowned, trying to remember. My brain started to get foggy and I got dizzy, and before I realized I was crying there were tears falling off my face. “I don’t know.”

He started talking again, but I could process the words between bits and pieces of information coming back to me.

I remembered taking a teddy bear of a shelf and turning to Tony, holding it up.

I remembered a long walk with that boy. Peter. His name was Peter. We were in Europe and he was so cute and so smart and his name was Peter.

I remembered Dad’s car. It had a little car freshener that I made him for Father’s Day, a piece of cardboard dunked in essential oils and then cut and painted into the shape of the Iron Man mask. I could still smell the lavender.

I remembered a keychain. It was holographic and had Big Ben on it, and my name.

_“You know, my friends call me MJ.”_

_“I don’t think the gift store knows that.”_

I had laughed, and then he’d laughed, and I’d thought he looked so cute in that moment that I had to kiss him.

I remembered our first date in New York, at some rooftop diner. I’d let Pepper do my hair and let Aunty Nat pick my outfit. I was ridiculously out of my comfort zone, but Peter was, too, and after the first few awkward laughs, it was easy.

He’d kissed me outside the restaurant, and Happy’d honked, rolling down the window and glaring at Peter.

I remembered the first time he told me he loved me. We were at the movies, and as the credits rolled I’d jumped up, telling him I had to go to the bathroom before my bladder burst, and he laughed and told me he loved me.

I’d almost pissed myself.

I ran to the bathroom and peed as fast as humanly possible and ran back to tell him I loved him too.

When he kissed me, he tasted like popcorn.

I remembered the word “delivery”.

His body at my doorstep, clad in skin-tight red and blue.

Blood soaking him.

His skin pale and cold.

Being pulled off of him.

I remembered speaking at his memorial, to thousands of New Yorkers.

I remembered speaking at his funeral, a teary, snotty mess.

I remembered loving him and losing him, all at once.

And I hit the ground, unconscious.

\---

I woke up in the backseat of Ned’s car, Betty sitting passenger while he drove.

“She’s awake,” Betty said softly.

Ned glanced at me in the rear-view mirror. “We’re going to the cemetery.”

“Florist first,” Betty insisted.

“Florist first,” Ned agreed.

Betty went with me into the floral shop, and helped me pick out flowers.

“Do you remember what his favourite flower was?” she asked gently.

I was about to tell her no, I couldn’t, but then my mouth opened of it’s own accord. “Lilacs.”

Betty picked out some flowers and paid for them, and then led me back out to the car.

I sat in the back, holding the lilacs, twirling the bouquet.

We stopped outside the cemetery.

“Do you want us to come with you?” Ned offered.

I shook my head. “That’s okay.”

“We’ll wait here.”

I got out of the car, and headed into the cemetery. I didn’t have to wander very long, since Peter’s grave already had a bunch of flowers on it.

I stopped in front of it.

It was a plain tombstone, rounded at the top, with Peter’s name carved in, and 2001-2019 underneath. No quote, nothing but his name, the year he was born, and the year he died.

“I don’t know why I chose to forget you,” I whispered, setting the lilacs down among the rest of the flowers. “I’m sorry. You deserved better than that.”

I started to go, but felt compelled to stay, so I sat down, cross-legged, facing the tombstone.

“I know you probably hate me for doing what I did. I kinda hate me for it. I-I want it all back. Maybe I only want it all back because I can’t remember the things that made me want to wipe it all. I don’t know how much of a choice I was given, either. Knowing Fury it wasn’t much.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t just…grieve. Just deal with the pain and honour you properly instead of-of burying you twice. I’m sorry I can’t remember more. I think I’d need you to jog my memory the rest of the way, but…you can’t do that. You’re dead.

“I know this is probably…untrue…but I can’t help but feel like you’re dead because of me. I don’t even know why I feel like that. I do know that you’d tell me I’m wrong. I know that much.”

I took a moment, and just sat there, staring at the tombstone.

This was stupid, talking to a chunk of rock, as if it could hear me.

I got up, kissing two fingers and then touching those fingers to the top of the tombstone, as if to say “goodbye”, or maybe “I love you”.

And then I went back to the car and got back in.

“Ned?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you know the way to Steve’s from here?”

\---

That night, after Steve had fallen asleep, I paced around the living room.

I had options.

I could tell Fury I remembered, at which point he’d probably wipe my memories again and then keep me in quarantine so nothing could bring them back to the surface.

I could tell Steve, and let him decide what to do.

Or…I could go up to the roof, and let the fresh air clear my mine.

So I did. I left the apartment as quietly as I could, and went up the elevator to the roof.

I sat down on the edge of the roof, legs dangling above the city.

“Do you remember that night in Europe?”

I looked, and Peter was there next to me.

“The Ferris Wheel?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

He smiled, looking out at the city. “That was a beautiful night.”

I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. “It was.”

“Do you wanna go back to it?” he asked, voice softening. “We can sit up there and talk all night.” He held out a hand, looking at me hopefully.

I took his hand, and pushed off the roof.

I felt peaceful, the whole way down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow i can't wait for all the death threats i'm gonna get for this lmao


	10. i just wanna let go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay for the record, this picks up where chapter 8 ended. also, stick with me, it's a rough chapter but it's got a cute ending i promise.

_\---Peter---_

“MJ called you in her sleep,” Dr. Cho said to me. I was still groggy and tired. FRIDAY had paged me at four in the morning, and now I was here, standing outside her room, debating whether or not to go in.

“But…she doesn’t seem to want me around when she’s awake.”

Dr. Cho took a breath. “She’s traumatized, Peter. We don’t know what Gargan said to her. But if it’s anything like the stuff he said the first time, she probably believes none of us truly care for her. I think she does want you around, she’s just distancing herself so you can’t hurt her by rejecting her. Like, um, how some people will dump their partner in order to avoid being dumped.”

I looked through the doorway, at MJ, laying in bed, looking sick and uncomfortable.

“Just…spend a few minutes with her,” Dr. Cho said softly. “I think it’ll help you, too.”

I gave in. “Okay.”

She let me past her, into the room. I sat down on the edge of the bed, gently stroking MJ’s hair.

There were a few things I was grateful for right now. One of them being that she hadn’t had her head split open. Another being that her hands were intact, and Dr. Cho wouldn’t have to use the Cradle to repair nerve damage again.

The biggest one being that she was here, alive. She was breathing and her heart was beating and, god, I was never going to let anybody lay a hand on her ever again. I’d ask Mr. Stark to keep her here until Gargan was dead, and I wouldn’t leave her side when we got her back to school.

“Peter,” she mumbled, eyebrows furrowed.

“I’m right here, love.” I leaned over and kissed her forehead, and her face relaxed a little.

I laid down with her on the bed, giving into my exhaustion. I gently pulled her towards me, and she readjusted, laying her head on my chest and wrapping one arm around me, loosely.

Sometimes it felt impossible to be as in love with her as I was, to look at her face and feel my heart threaten to explode because _holy shit_ , I was so lucky to have her and hold her. I was so lucky to still have her, to not be mourning her right now.

I held her as tight as I could, and then let my eyes fall shut.

\---

I woke up to soft sobs. I held MJ tighter.

“Hey, I’m here. It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

She kept crying, the sobs getting louder and harder, wracking her whole body. I can only imagine how much it hurt, considering how roughed up she was.

“You’re safe, I promise,” I whispered. “I promise.”

“Don’t- don’t leave me,” she hiccupped. “Please. Just…for now. I need you.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

She cried even harder at that. I shifted, sitting up, pulling her into a sitting position to. I wiped her face dry with my thumbs.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t save you,” I whispered. “I wanted to, so badly.”

She shook her head. “It’s okay, Peter.”

“No, look at me.” Her eyes met mine, big and sparkly from the tears. “I’ll make it up to you, okay? Whatever you need.”

She pulled away from me a bit. “I don’t want you to stay with me be-because you feel like you owe me or something.”

“Stay with you?”

Tears spilled onto her cheeks again. “Come on, Peter. I’m a mess. I’m literally a heroin addict, I can’t have kids, I-I’m damaged.”

I stared at her. “Do you really think that’s gonna change how I feel about you?” I asked, hurt thick in my voice.

“It should.”

“It doesn’t. MJ, you can detox and get through the addiction, and if we’re still together in ten, fifteen years, we can always adopt. And, yeah, you’ve been abused and you’re traumatized, but that doesn’t mean you’re unlovable. None of it makes you unlovable. I literally fell asleep thinking about how much I love you and how lucky I am.”

She broke down in sobs again.

“Come here,” I whispered, pulling her into my arms. She fell against me, curling up in my lap, crying into my chest. I rubbed her back with one hand, holding her tightly with the other.

After a few minutes, she started to pull away, apologizing for making me stay so long. I just pulled her back into my arms. Her head fit perfectly under my chin, her arms wrapped around me, and I felt her body relax, back muscles releasing. She wasn’t crying anymore, just breathing a little irregularly.

I slowly laid us back down, and she fell asleep soon after. I could feel the rise and fall of her back as she breathed, the most reassuring feeling on Earth.

“I love you,” I whispered into her ear.

She nuzzled into me, making soft, sleepy noises.

I let my eyes drift shut again.

\---

The next time I woke up, it was because I heard the door close. I opened my eyes to see Mr. Stark standing there, wincing.

MJ had flinched, hard, and was now sitting next to me, shaking. I immediately sat up and wrapped an arm around her. She leaned into my side, turning her head into my shoulder.

“I’m sorry, honey, I didn’t mean to scare you. I didn’t, shit, I didn’t realize how heavy that door it.”

“It’s okay,” she mumbled, definitely not okay.

Mr. Stark sat down next to the bed, and I realized he was holding MJ’s teddy bear.

“I brought you Anthony, honey.”

MJ looked at the bear and recoiled a little. I frowned. “What’s wrong?”

She didn’t answer, but her breathing quickened and she started to…hide behind me. She shifted until she was behind me, arms wrapped around my midsection, chin rested on my shoulder.

“MJ, did I do something?” Mr. Stark asked.

She shook her head. “It’s stupid.”

“What is?” he pressed.

“He was in my nightmare,” she whispered, tightening her arms around me. “He was…soaked in blood.”

Oh. She wasn’t scared of him, she was scared of what had happened to him.

Mr. Stark put the teddy bear down on a seat and sat down on the bed with us, pushing hair out of her face.

“It’s okay, honey.”

I could feel her body shaking as she clung to me. “It doesn’t feel okay.”

“I know. I know.”

She let go of me, and let her dad give her a tight hug. He stroked her hair, whispering, “You’ll be okay,” over and over again.

After a few moments, he pulled away, planting a kiss on top of her head.

“Okay, I have one thing I want to talk to you about.”

She nodded.

“Until we can get our hands on Gargan, you’re not leaving the compound.”

“What?”

MJ looked at me. I didn’t realize I’d said that. Oops.

“Rhodey and I got a tip that he’s still operating in New York, so we know he hasn’t left the city. That means you’re still in danger. I want you here, no exceptions.”

MJ nodded. “Okay.”

I wasn’t satisfied. I followed Mr. Stark out of the room.

“You can’t keep her here in definitely. What about school?”

“School is where she got kidnapped. Twice. And, not that I think you’re not capable of protecting her, but it is a question of _your_ safety, too.”

“So send Happy with us! He was your bodyguard!”

“Listen, kid, it’s safer for her here. She can still get all of her work done and be on track to graduate. I just don’t want to risk it until we have our hands on Gargan. Got it?”

I sighed. “What about prom?”

He frowned. “What about it?

“It’s in two weeks. She has a dress, I have a matching tie, we have plans with our friends. You can’t let Gargan rob her of that.”

Mr. Stark sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Fine. Only if she’s well enough. And you’re both going to be armed.”

“Understood.”

“Go back in there, okay?” he said, voice softening.

I nodded. He patted my shoulder before he walked away.

I went back into MJ’s room and sat down in a chair, picking up Anthony and fiddling with his fur.

“Do you wanna talk about any of it?” I asked softly, knowing she wasn’t going to.

I was waiting for her to say no, but instead she said, “What do you see in me?” Her voice was quiet and vulnerable, almost broken. She was fiddling with her blankets, wrapping them around fingers and then unwrapping them so she could rewrap them another way.

“What?”

“I’m serious. I’m just…needy and pathetic and annoying. I’m the school loner for a reason.”

“You’re not the school loner,” I told her, putting Anthony down so I could give her more of my attention.

“I was. For a long time. My only friends are either on the decathlon team or work for my dad. The only people that talk to me are the people that have to.”

I hated how much she clearly believed it.

“MJ, look at me.” She looked up, teary eyes meeting mine. “You’re…incredible. First of all, you’re so…strong and resilient-”

“Stop.”

I shut up, watching her carefully. She looked back down, going back to wrapping and unwrapping the thin blanket around her fingers.

“You don’t have to lie to me,” she breathed, eyes filled to the brim with tears.

“MJ-”

She wiped at her eyes, despite the fact that her tears hadn’t yet fallen. “I’m not strong or resilient or incredible or any of that. That’s all you.”

“No, that’s not true-”

“Peter,” she whispered. “It’s okay.”

But it wasn’t. I’d failed her, over and over, and now this was what she thought about herself. That she was weak and pathetic and unlovable.

I was bad for her. I was going to be the death of her.

I got up, and kissed her forehead. “I’ll…leave you alone. I don’t wanna upset you.”

“Peter.” Her hand reached up and balled up the fabric of my shirt, stopping me as I pulled away.

I shook my head. “It’s okay. I get it. I’m not good for you.”

She let go of my shirt, hand dropping into her lap. “O-okay.”

I brushed a piece of hair out of her face, and then left the room, closing the door gently behind myself.

How could I have done this to her? Failed her so spectacularly that she lost all of her personality? She lost her self-assurance and self-esteem and her sarcasm and everything that made her MJ.

I went up to my room and crawled into bed, pulling the covers around myself.

Maybe if I slept long enough, I’d stop existing entirely. Then I couldn’t fail her again.

_\---MJ---_

I curled up on the bed and cried.

Could I blame him for leaving? No. But did it hurt? Like hell.

Crying hurt, too. My body was tired and sore, my head ached, my stomach turned. I wished so badly that I’d just died in the van, that they hadn’t resuscitated me, that I could’ve died next to Peter and Dad.

I wanted to hear Dad sing to me now, like he had in the van, but he was too busy and I didn’t wanna pull him away from whatever he was doing.

It hurt so bad to cry so hard, but the more it hurt, the harder I cried.

Why did they even come for me?

\---

The next day or two were…blurry. I didn’t wanna eat, or see anybody, really. It wasn’t a good feeling, going through heroin withdrawal. Physically, it hurt and felt gross. Emotionally, I was easily annoyed and depressed. I spent a lot of time napping, fending off Dad and Rhodey and Nat and Pepper, and grabbing the nearest bucket.

Pepper kept bringing in food, smoothies, tried to get me to eat. But I wasn’t hungry, and I felt so sick that the thought of food repulsed me. She’d set the food down next to me, and I’d roll over so I didn’t have to see it or smell it.

Peter…didn’t visit. Maybe he was waiting for me to call him, but I didn’t hear anything, and I didn’t want to inconvenience him at all.

It did feel like he didn’t want to see me.

Which was fair. I was a wreck. I didn’t wanna be around me, either.

\---

Dad eventually came by to tell me I was allowed to leave the medical wing. He walked me up to my room so I could shower and change into real clothes. He did make me drink some juice, since I was no longer hooked up to an IV and therefore needed some nutrients in me. I did end up puking it up almost immediately afterwards, and it didn’t taste as good the second time around, but what Dad didn’t know didn’t hurt him.

I ended up just laying on my bed, wishing I could just get through withdrawal and be okay again.

All I wanted was to be okay again. I missed feeling like myself, feeling safe or loved.

Although, feeling loved felt like something out of a fantasy now.

After an hour, maybe an hour and a half of laying there and wallowing in self-pity, I got up. A walk up and down the hall couldn’t do any harm, and I felt gross and restless from days of laying on a floor or in a hospital bed.

I started to walk down the hall, and then realized someone was crying.

Peter. Peter was crying. It sounded like him, and it was coming from his room. I wasn’t going to intrude, but then I heard a soft…yelp?

I knocked, and didn’t get a response, which worried me. I cracked the door open, and peered inside.

I could hear breathing, coming from Peter’s bathroom.

Thank god for archways in place of doors.

I went inside.

“Peter?”

“No, MJ, you have to leave-”

His voice was weak. I rounded the corner and stood in the archway.

He was sitting in the bathtub, fully clothed, bath empty, blood flowing out of his arms. He dropped a razor onto the edge of the tub, blood splattering onto the porcelain.

Before I could fully process it, I was grabbing towels and getting in the tub and trying to wrap his arms, despite him trying to shift away away.

“No, MJ, stop, you can’t-”

“You’ll die,” I breathed, desperately grabbing his hand and pulling it towards me so I could wrap his forearm.

“That’s the point.”

I looked up at him for a second, and he was smiling softly, eyes half-lidded as he gazed at me.

It terrified me.

“Peter,” I whispered, trying to stop my voice from cracking. I had to focus, I had to stop the bleeding, I had to-

“Can you kiss me?”

“What?”

“Just…one last time.”

I started to cry, tears falling down my face and voice shaking as I spoke. “You’re not gonna die. I won’t let you.”

“Please, love?”

“Will you let me wrap your arms if I do?”

He nodded. I gave in, leaning forwards and pressing my lips to his. It was soft and slow and short, and I could feel the goodbye in it. When I pulled away, he didn’t open his eyes, just tipped his head back against the porcelain of the tub.

“FRIDAY, call Dad. Urgently.”

Peter’s brows furrowed just a little, and then his whole face relaxed. His chest was still rising and falling, although not enough. Bright red blood covered him and me and the bath.

“Don’t die on me,” I pleaded, wrapping his arms and crying. “I can’t lose you, not like this.”

Blood had already soaked through the towels, and was dripping from the edges of the cloth, splattering against the bottom of the tub.

“I need you,” I sobbed. “I can’t- I can’t- I can’t lose you. Please, please, please. Don’t leave me.”

I could hear Dad’s footsteps coming down the hall, followed by Rhodey’s.

“Peter?” Dad called.

“In here! In the bathroom!”

Dad and Uncle Rhodey ran in, and stared at the sight before them.

“Grab MJ, I’ll grab Peter,” Dad ordered.

“No, no no no no no, I should- I should stay with him,” I protested, Rhodey already pulling me off of Peter. “I’m the one who landed him in this mess, I-”

“MJ, please, we’re just trying to help him,” Rhodey pleaded.

My hands were still clamped down firmly on Peter’s arms, and Dad had to pry me off and Rhodey lifted me out of the tub.

“Stay with her,” Dad ordered, scooping Peter up and carrying him out of the room. I tried to run after them, but I slipped on the blood-slicked tiles, and Rhodey had to catch me.

I tried to scramble out of his grasp, but his arms were locked around me, trapping me. “I-I gotta-”

“MJ, you’re panicking, and you’re no use to him when you’re panicking.”

I fell limp, crying hard.

“I-I did this,” I whimpered.

“No, you didn’t.”

“I pushed him away, and-and I wasn’t good enough, and I made him- I made him-”

I couldn’t finish my sentence, breaking down in hard sobs that hurt my whole body. Rhodey held me, blood transferring from me and my clothes onto him. I could hear myself apologizing, and Rhodey shushing me and telling me it was okay, and after that…it’s a bit of a blur.

_\---Peter---_

I sat on the bathroom floor, holding a pencil sharpener and a screwdriver.

This was the best thing I could do for MJ. If Spider-Man was dead, Gargan wouldn’t go after her again. If I was dead, I couldn’t hurt her, I couldn’t make her cry, I couldn’t fail her.

If I was dead, the burden was off Aunt May’s shoulders, and she didn’t have to look after the pathetic orphan my parents left behind.

If I was dead, Mr. Stark wouldn’t have to lecture me when I screw up, fix my suit when I get hurt, deal with me being a crybaby.

It was better for everyone if I were gone.

Through tear-blurred eyes, I unscrewed the blade from the pencil sharpener, and set it on the edge of the bath while I put away the shell of the pencil sharpener and the screwdriver.

I climbed into the bathtub, and sat there for a moment, just crying.

If only I’d been better. If I’d been better at my job, at protecting MJ, at everything. If I could’ve been perfect, we’d all be happy.

It was all my fault.

I held the blade with my left hand to my right arm. It’d be harder to use my left hand when it was already bleeding out, right?

I was gonna miss everyone. I’d miss Ned, and watching Star Wars with him. I’d miss May, and our nights at that Thai restaurant. I’d miss Mr. Stark and Pepper and Happy.

And, god, I’d miss MJ. I’d miss seeing her smile, when it reaches her eyes and you know you’ve made her happy. I’d miss feeling the weight of her head on my chest, feeling her hair drape over me. I’d miss holding her, feeling her under my hands, feeling her ribs expand and contract as she breathed. I’d miss her soft morning groans, seeing her face scrunch up. I’d miss waking up at three in the morning, seeing her face illuminated my moonlight, relaxed and peaceful. I’d miss her soft kisses, against my forehead or cheek or nose or lips. I’d miss everything about her, everything she did.

But this was for her. It was so she’d be okay.

I pressed the blade into my skin, slicing my forearm open. I gasped a little at the pain, and then quickly dragged the blade all the way up my arm.

Okay, okay. This was fine. This was good. I could do this.

I switched hands, and grasped the blade with my right hand. My hand was shaking, and there was blood everywhere. I started to cut into my left forearm.

“Peter?”

Her voice came from inside the room. That was bad.

“No, MJ, you have to leave-”

I quickly cut the rest of the way, just in time for her to round the corner. She stared at me in horror as I dropped the blade onto the edge of the tub.

She grabbed the nearest towels and climbed into the tub, my blood staining her clothes.

“No, MJ, stop, you can’t-”

“You’ll die.” Her voice was airy and shaking. She grabbed one of my hands and started to staunch the blood with a towel.

“That’s the point,” I told her gently. I smiled at her, trying to tell her it was okay.

God, she was beautiful, even like this. Teary-eyed, shaking, scared. I hated that she had to see this, but I was so glad she was the last person I’d see.

“Peter,” she whispered. She sounded so hurt.

“Can you kiss me?” I asked.

“What?” She looked…so frightened.

“Just…one last time,” I pleaded.

Tears started to fall down her face. I wanted to wipe them away, but I didn’t wanna smear blood all over her face. “You’re not gonna die,” she said, voice trembling. “I won’t let you.”

“Please, love?”

Her eyes were so big and sparkly. “Will you let me wrap your arms if I do?” she negotiated.

I nodded, so she leaned in. Her lips were warm and soft against mine. She kissed me slowly, hands still gripping my arms.

When she pulled away, I let my head fall back against the edge of the tub, and relaxed. I could still feel her hands on me. The last thing I heard before I let go was MJ telling FRIDAY to call her dad.

\---

I woke up in a hospital room.

No, no no no no no no no no no. I was supposed to be dead.

I looked over to see Mr. Stark, eyes closed, head tipped back against the wall.

And then I was flooded with guilt.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

His eyes opened, and he looked at me.

“I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he said, leaning forward. He had tear stains on his cheeks and under his eyes.

“I- I didn’t wanna hurt you,” I insisted. “I didn’t wanna be a failure anymore, I wanted to do something right.”

“You’re not a failure,” Mr. Stark said, his voice breaking. “I’m so proud of you and everything you’ve done in the past couple of yours. Jesus, kid, I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you that more, or- god, if anyone’s failed anyone, I’ve failed you.”

“No, you haven’t- you’re not- Mr. Stark, please don’t-”

He moved from his chair onto my bed. “Hey, kid, calm down. You’re supposed to be resting.”

I took a breath. “Is MJ okay?”

He looked down. “She’s with Rhodey and Nat.”

“She wasn’t…supposed to find me.”

“I know,” he whispered. “But I’m glad someone did.”

There was a moment of silence, and then he sniffled.

“Okay, come here, give me a hug.”

He pulled me into his arms, squeezing me tight against his chest. I could feel his breathing pattern change, and realized he was crying.

Because of me.

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled into his shoulder. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

He just squeezed me tighter.

_\---MJ---_

It’d been two days since Peter’s attempt. I hadn’t gone into his room to see him, scared he wouldn’t want me there.

Besides, I couldn’t help but feel like it was my fault he’d tried to kill himself. I’d kept pushing him away, and knowing him, he probably blamed himself for…everything.

I should’ve just told him how desperately I wanted him around. Maybe he wouldn’t have tried to kill himself if I’d just told him how much I needed him.

I kept asking everyone for updates. I knew he hadn’t eaten, would barely talk, would barely look at anybody.

“MJ,” Nat pleaded, “bring him some food.”

“I don’t wanna upset him,” I mumbled, trying to push past her and get out of the kitchen.

“Hey.” She stopped me. “He needs you right now.”

I shook my head. “The last thing he needs is me. I’m the reason this even happened.”

“No, you’re not. Listen, I’ll help you make him some food, and you can bring it to him.”

I sighed. “I don’t have a choice, do I?”

“Nope. Come on.”

She helped me make him a plate of food. We cut up an apple (made sure to use a corer), made him a sandwich (cut diagonally), and put a couple Bear Paws on the side (banana bread flavour). She made me carry the plate to the room, and told me to stay in there to make sure he ate.

When I cracked the door open, he was laying on his side, curled up. I looked back at Aunty Nat, and she nodded, giving me a gentle push in and closing the door quietly behind me.

Peter didn’t move.

I walked quietly across the room and placed the plate on the table next to him.

“I’m not hungry,” he mumbled.

“I’m not allowed to leave until you eat.”

He turned over and looked at me. “MJ,” he breathed.

“Hi.”

He stared at me for a minute, mumbled something, and then picked up the plate. I went and stood by the door, putting as much distance between us as possible. If I looked at him for too long, looked at his pale skin and empty eyes, I’d lose my mind.

He picked at the food, starting with the apple slices. I stared at the floor, staying still so he didn’t pay any attention to me.

He finished the apple slices and moved onto the sandwich.

“Thank you,” he mumbled as he chewed. “It’s really good.”

“No problem.”

He finished the sandwich, ate his Bear Paws, and then went to set his plate down on the table.

“I can take it,” I said, crossing towards the bed.

He looked at me. “Can you…stay? Just for a bit?”

I nodded, so he put the plate down, and scooted over in his bed, making room for me. I sat down on the edge of the bed.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, gaze dropped to the blankets.

“For what?”

“I…failed you. And, I mean, I know you probably hate me because of everything, and I know I scared you and-”

I leaned forward, putting my hands on his shoulders. His voice trailed off as he met my eyes. “I love you.”

“Then why didn’t you wanna see me?” he breathed.

“I was scared. Gargan…”

“Yeah.”

I slipped my hand into his and examined his arm. Visibly, there was no scarring, but when I ran my fingers over the skin, I could feel the difference.

“MJ?”

I looked up at him.

“We’ll work through all of this, right? And I can take you to prom and we can graduate together and just…it’s- we’re gonna be okay, right?”

I leaned in, kissing him gently. He slid his arms around me and pulled me into his lap. I pulled away and rested my head on his shoulder.

“Right.”


	11. the first domino

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> honestly this chapter is a mess sorry

_\---Peter---_

She fell asleep in my arms, head on my shoulder, legs curled up on the bed.

The more I looked at her, the guiltier I felt. Even if she was better off without me, how could I hurt her like this?

She’d looked so scared when we were in the bath, hands shaking, tears streaming down her face.

As if she needed to be hurt more than she already had been.

The door opened, just a crack, and Miss Romanoff peeked in.

“Is she asleep?” she whispered. I nodded. She walked in, her feet making no noise on her floor. “You still hungry? I can bring you some more fruit, Tony bought some strawberries today.” She picked up the plate and looked at me, waiting for an answer.

“Can you bring some extra for when MJ wakes up?” I asked. “Please?”

“Of course, Peter.”

She ruffled my hair before leaving the room.

MJ stirred a little as the door closed behind Miss Romanoff. I held my breath, staying completely still, hoping she’d just go back to sleep, but her eyes blinked open, and she groaned, turning her face into my neck.

“How long did I sleep?”

“Like, ten minutes,” I said, “you can go back to sleep if you want.”

She sat up, kind of suddenly. “No, no, I’m okay.”

“Are you sure?”

She rubbed her eyes. “I’m sure.”

“MJ, you look exhausted.”

As she was moving off of me, she mumbled, “I haven’t slept since.”

“Since?”

“Since you slit your own wrists, Peter.” She sounded bitter and sad at the same time.

“MJ-”

“What the fuck was that about?” she snapped. “What were you thinking? Why would- why did you _want_ to?” There were tears gathering in her eyes.

I opened my mouth to say something, but anything I could say was going to sound utterly stupid.

“I needed you,” she whispered, her voice cracking.

“I’m sorry.”

She looked down, shaking her head. “I know I’m not…I don’t know. I know I’m kind of a burden, but…I didn’t think it was bad enough to make you kill yourself.”

“MJ, that’s not-”

I reached for her hand, but she ran out of the room, crying.

Shit. I really couldn’t do anything right.

_\---MJ---_

I stopped outside his room, leaning against the door. I was crying so hard I had to cover my hand with my mouth.

Aunty Nat came by, holding a container of strawberries.

“Hey, whoa, what’s going on?”

I was crying too hard to speak, so she tried to touch my shoulder, and I flinched.

“MJ, MJ, take a breath.”

I tried to push past her, but she blocked me. “No, I- let me go.”

She held me by my shoulder. “What happened?”

I jerked away from her, and ran before she could grab me again.

I got all the way to my room and sat down on the floor, pulling my knees to my chest and sobbing.

He could’ve died. He could’ve died and I don’t know what I would’ve done.

My clothes from that day were on my bathroom floor, caked in dried blood. I didn’t have the heart to wash them yet.

I went into my closet and found one of his sweaters, pulling it off the hanger and holding it to my chest, breathing it in.

If I hadn’t found him, if Dad hadn’t gotten there, if Dr. Cho hadn’t been able to save him…

This would be all that I’d have left.

Pieces of him. Clothes that smelled like him. Notes with coffee stains, chicken scratch and messy diagrams. Old texts. His bedroom in the apartment, clothes draped over every piece of furniture, homework covering his desk, his floor, the foot of his bed. The cologne he only ever used on special occasions.

I knew he was still here, he was laying in a bed downstairs, but I…I felt like shit. I felt like I’d lost him.

Peter was the happiest boy on earth. How did I fuck him up this bad?

I curled up on the floor of my closet, and cried into his sweater until I exhausted myself, and passed out.

\---

I woke up to a hand on my shoulder. I sat up.

“Hey, honey.” Dad was crouching next to me, looking exhausted.

I wiped under my eyes, dried tears rubbing off. “Hi. Sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s okay.”

I sniffled. “I’m really sorry.”

“For what?”

“I hurt Peter,” I whimpered.

Dad pulled me into a hug. “It’s okay, honey. He’s okay.”

“No, he isn’t.” It came out broken and sad. “He used to be so happy and I hurt him and now he’s-he’s-”

Dad shushed me in that weird, soothing, dad way. I ended up crying again.

“Why can’t things just be okay again?” I sobbed.

“I know, MJ, I know.”

“I just want him to be okay.”

He ran his hand up and down my back, letting me cry until I couldn’t anymore.

“Do you wanna come downstairs and watch a movie with us? Dr. Cho said Peter could join us, and Nat’s picking the movie, and Rhodey ordered pizza.”

“I don’t wanna see anyone,” I mumbled.

“Please, honey? It’ll make everyone feel a little better.”

Shit. I couldn’t disappoint Peter, or Uncle Rhodes, or Aunty Nat, and I especially couldn’t disappoint Dad.

I pulled away, wiping my face with my sleeves. “Okay.”

He gave me a smile. “That’s my girl.”

I followed him downstairs to the living room. Peter and Rhodey were sitting together on one couch chatting, and Nat was in the kitchen, making microwave popcorn.

Peter was wearing this big, grey sweater May had gotten him a few years ago, and kept nervously pulling it over his hands.

I joined Nat in the kitchen, leaning against the counter next to the microwave.

“Hey, Mishy, you feeling better?”

I shrugged.

“Do you want a hug?”

I nodded, so she wrapped her arms around me, squeezing the breath out of my lungs. She held me until the microwave started to beep, and then let me go to pull the popcorn out. She tore the bag open, and a cloud of steam came out, hitting her right in the face. She scrunched up her nose.

“That was way hotter than I was expecting.”

I laughed. “You’re-”

“I know. Avenger. Russian spy. Dumbass.”

I snort-laughed, and she threw a piece of popcorn at me.

“Show a little respect,” she teased.

We went to the living room and sat down on the loveseat together. Dad started the movie.

We passed the popcorn around until the pizza arrived. Once it did, and Uncle Rhodes set it down on the coffee table, I sat on the floor next to the coffee table instead of the loveseat, passing a slice back to Aunty Nat and shoving another one in my mouth. Peter sat down on the ground too, a solid foot of space separating us.

God, this was Europe all over again.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” he whispered after a few minutes.

“Geez, if you two are gonna have some cheesy, mushy moment, can you have it in the kitchen?” Rhodey asked. “I like this movie.”

I laughed, getting up, gesturing for Peter to follow me.

We went into the kitchen, and I hopped up on the counter, still eating my pizza. He stood in front of me, hands deep in his pockets.

“I’m- I don’t- I didn’t mean to scare you or hurt you or anything,” Peter said, his voice falling quiet.

“I know.”

“I thought you were better off without me,” he admitted.

My heart shattered. “Peter…”

“I just- I couldn’t save you, MJ. And then you- I didn’t know how to help you, and it didn’t seem like I _could_ help you, because it felt like everything I was doing was making it worse, and-and-and you wouldn’t touch me.”

“When?”

“In the van.”

I put my slice down on the counter next to me and wiped the grease from my hands onto my jeans. “Peter, I didn’t wanna hurt you. I barely let Dad touch me.” I reached forwards, and he stepped towards me. “I wanted to hold your hand like you would not believe, but I-”

He pulled his hands out of his pockets and slipped them into mine. “I wish I could’ve saved you.”

“You did save me, though,” I insisted. “You came in and grabbed me…both times, right?”

He nodded.

“So didn’t you save me?”

“But I- I couldn’t stop any of it. Gargan took you right in front of me. I’m fucking Spider-Man, MJ, and I couldn’t save you-”

“You didn’t have your tech with you!” I jumped down off the counter. “I don’t blame you for any of this, okay, Peter? You’re dumb enough to take a bullet for me, so I’m pretty sure you did everything you could-”

“I did.”

I blinked. “You what?”

He seemed to realize what had happened, letting go of my hands as he thought hard. “No, no, I mean that, um, well, it wasn’t on purpose and I kinda didn’t realize-”

“I’m sorry, are you trying to tell me you didn’t realize you got shot?”

He swallowed.

“Where?” I demanded, and he pointed at his ribs. “Peter!” Without thinking, I lifted his shirt, staring at the skin. I ran my fingers over his ribs, feeling the slight difference between artificial and natural tissue in one spot.

“It kinda just…happened. Everything was kind of a mess, and I didn’t really realize until I was breaking into your…cell.”

And then his chest…spasmed, and I looked up to see tears falling down his face. I let go of his shirt and hugged him. He wrapped his arms around me, tight.

“Please,” he whispered through silent sobs. “I can’t lose you.”

“I can’t lose you, either. Can you promise me something?” I asked.

He pulled away, looking at me with those big, chocolatey eyes. “Anything.”

“Don’t ever hurt yourself again.”

He stared at me, eyes welled with tears. “Okay.”

“Pinky promise,” I insisted, giving him my pinky. He linked his with mine and shook on it. “Do you wanna ditch the rest of this movie and go take a shower with me?” I asked.

He grinned. “Let’s do it.”

I grabbed my slice off the counter, and he went back into the living room to steal a slice for himself, then we went up to my room and sat on my floor, eating our pizza for a bit.

“MJ?” he asked, through a mouthful of food.

“Yeah?”

“You know I love you, right?”

I faltered. I used to know. I used to feel so secure in our relationship, knowing no matter what, at the end of the day Peter loved me and everything would be okay.

“MJ?”

“I don’t know,” I mumbled. “I used to and now I don’t.”

“Can I- can I ask what happened in there? With Gargan?”

I stared at him. “You don’t want to know.”

“MJ, I can’t help you through it all if I don’t know.”

I flinched a little. I didn’t wanna upset him, but I didn’t wanna tell him everything. “Can I…tell you some other time?”

“Of course.”

We fell quiet, finishing our pizza in thick, awkward silence.

I got up first, heading towards the bathroom.

“Wait, uh, can I just…ask you one thing? You don’t have to answer.”

“Okay,” I said, slowly and nervously.

“Did you…want to do…what I tried to do?”

“You mean killing myself?”

He nodded, concern carved into his features.

I remembered the gun Gargan gave me, remembered holding it to my head and pulling the trigger. I remembered trying to pull a spike out to stab myself, so I’d die faster.

“MJ?”

“No,” I lied.

He looked down, and I felt bad for lying, but I just…couldn’t tell him. I sat back down with him, and pulled him into my arms, hugging him as tight as I could. We stayed there for a few minutes, arms tight around each other.

After a while, he sniffled, his arms loosening around me. “Should we just get in the shower now?”

“Sure.”

We went and got in my shower, FRIDAY playing my playlist on a low volume. It was soft and peaceful, and seemed to wash away some of the high emotions from the day. Peter kept giving me soft kisses, and massaged my scalp until I practically melted.

When we got out of the shower, we crawled into my bed, turning on the TV. Peter played with my hair, twirling damp curls around his fingers. I kept fighting sleep off, trying to stay awake until the end of the episode we were watching, but Peter was warm and cuddly and playing with my hair and I was so _drained_.

I readjusted how I was laying, trying to keep myself awake.

“Do you need me to move?” Peter asked. “Are you uncomfortable?”

“No, no. I’m just…trying not to fall asleep.”

“MJ, you need your rest, you’re still recovering.”

“I don’t wanna fall asleep on you and then you have to watch the last half of the episode alone,” I whined, readjusting again.

“It’s fine, love, I promise. I’m falling asleep, too.” He kissed the top of my head. “I love you, MJ.”

“I love you, too, Peter,” I mumbled, letting my eyes fall shut.

_\---Peter---_

May had come and gone a few times in the past few days, but the next time she came, she insisted I start some therapy. Dr. Cho had already started giving me a low dose of an antidepressant, but the recommendation was that I did some therapy, too. I was a little unsure, scared to tell some stranger everything about me, but once May insisted, Mr. Stark booked it.

Mr. Stark had a psychologist come up from the city, and MJ promised to hang out with me afterwards.

So, despite my hang ups about it, I went into the session.

It was hard. I cried, way more than I thought I would. I didn’t even really talk about anything, but she started talking about the impacts of suicide and how it would’ve hurt everyone around me and changed their lives, and I felt so guilty.

When I walked out of the session, May was standing there, and immediately pulled me into a hug.

I didn’t cry then. I didn’t want her to think it was worse than it was. I just hugged her until I felt better.

“How was it, sweetie?”

“It was okay.”

“Do you feel any better?”

“I don’t know,” I muttered.

“Do you wanna come back home with me?” she asked softly.

“No, MJ and I have plans, I think.”

“Okay, call me if you need anything, sweetie.”

She pulled away and smiled at me, messing with my hair a little.

“I will.”

She kissed my forehead goodbye, and left the compound.

I went to the kitchen to get some water, and MJ was sitting at the counter with her sketchbook. She looked up when I entered the kitchen.

“How was it?”

“Good,” I half-lied.

“Are you gonna give me the same spiel Dad gave me, about giving therapy a chance?”

I smiled at her. “No.”

“Good.”

She closed her sketchbook and zipped up her pencil case.

“Can we go for a walk?” she asked. “I need some fresh air, I think.”

“Sure.”

I drank some water, then took her hand and we went outside. We walked through the woodsy areas around the compound, quietly.

After a long silence, MJ asked, “Are you okay?”

I frowned. “Why?”

“You just seem…off.”

“I don’t know, it was a rough session,” I admitted quietly.

She stopped walking, pulling my hand so I’d turn to face her. “You didn’t answer the question.”

I dropped my gaze to the ground. “I don’t think so.” I looked up, tentatively, worried to see her expression, but she just hugged me. Her body pressed against mine, arms wrapping around me.

“Me neither.”

I held her tight, burying my face in her hair. “Did you switch shampoos? Your hair smells different.”

She laughed softly, chest shaking against mine. “Yeah.”

I breathed in again. “I like it.”

She slowly pulled away from me, and I realized there were tears in her eyes.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

She laughed nervously, dropping her head a little. “It’s so stupid, but I just…wish we could rewind, you know? Like, the day Gargan kidnapped me the first time, my biggest worries were making curfew and finishing homework. And now I’m worried about going back to school and being treated like glass or-or Dad never being able to find Gargan and I just have to live my life in fear or you hurting yourself again because of all of this or me hurting myself and-”

“Whoa, slow down,” I interrupted, tightening my arms around her waist. “Are you really scared of hurting yourself?”

“I- kind of.”

“Why?” I asked, gently, trying not to show how terrified I was. I don’t think it worked.

“Well, um, I tried to. Twice.”

“What?” I asked, too loud. She flinched, pulling out of my arms, and I immediately felt awful.

“When I was in the basement,” she said, her voice slow and soft, “I tried to shoot myself.”

“What do you mean?”

“Gargan told me there were four bullets in his gun, shot me three times, and then gave it to me. And then I tried to shoot myself, but there had only been three bullets.”

She wouldn’t look me in the eye.

“What about the second time?”

She shook her head.

“MJ, please.”

“You know the-the spikes?” she whispered.

“Yeah.”

“I tried to pull one out and stab myself again so I’d- so I’d die faster.” Her voice was shaking.

I didn’t know what to say. It was understandable, she’d been in so much pain. I couldn’t blame her for any of it.

“Have you wanted to try again since you’ve been back?” I asked.

MJ squeezed her eyes shut. “I don’t know. I don’t know.”

“Did you tell your dad?”

“No. God, don’t tell him. He’ll flip out and he really doesn’t need to because I’m _fine_ , I swear-”

“You tried to kill yourself twice, MJ, that’s not what anybody considers fine-”

“That was a week ago!”

I stared at her, until she realized how ridiculous she sounded. She cracked up, and then I did, and then we were both laughing, and it was completely stupid and terrible to laugh about, but neither of us could stop.

“Let’s just go in,” I breathed, trying to stop laughing.

“You’re gonna tell Dad to put me in therapy, aren’t you?” she asked, face falling.

I nodded. “Only because I want you to be okay again,” I told her.

She sighed. “Okay.”

We went back inside, and I found Mr. Stark. I didn’t tell him about MJ’s…attempts. I didn’t have the heart to. It felt like something she should tell him. I did tell him that he should probably just put her into therapy. He said something about not wanting to force her into it, I pointed out that maybe she needed to be forced into it, and eventually…he agreed.

Thank goodness.

\---

After her first session, she came out crying. I was sitting outside the room, and she immediately opened her arms, asking for a hug. I held her tight until she wasn’t crying too hard to breathe.

\---

After her second session, she came out looking absolutely exhausted. Her eyes were pink and puffy, her face pale. When I went to hug her, she didn’t really hug back. Her arms wrapped around me, but she didn’t hug as tight as usual, didn’t melt against my body the way she normally did. She was stiff.

I ended up bringing her up to her room and tucking her into bed. She napped for about twenty minutes before FRIDAY paged me. When I got to her room, she was sitting in a pile of blankets, shaking.

“Can you stay in here with me?” she asked.

“Yeah, of course.”

I crawled under the covers, and she snuggled into me.

She didn’t stop shaking that whole day.

\---

Her third session was right before my session, so I only saw her briefly before my session. I came out of that session feeling relatively good. When I saw her, she had a small smile on her face.

“You look happy,” I commented. “It’s a good look on you.” We started walking up to the residence wing.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“How was therapy?”

She shrugged. “Oh, you know, more talking about my trauma, my fears, nightmares, all of that lovely stuff. But she did point out that prom is next week, which I’d completely forgotten about.”

“Wow, are you, Michelle Stark Jones, excited for prom?”

She laughed, kind of self-consciously. “I don’t know. I’m excited to go with you.”

“Oh?”

“What?”

“I haven’t even asked you to prom,” I pointed out. “Maybe I’m going with someone else.”

She shoved my shoulder playfully. “Please.”

“Alright, alright, I had a whole promposal planned for you, but it was heavily reliant on you being at the school on the day of prom, and seeing as how you’re only allowed to go to school for prom, it’s not gonna work.”

“Wow, you have a big, cheesy promposal planned? Am I dating Midtown’s biggest dork or what?” she teased.

I rolled my eyes. “Here, I’ll give you the abridged version.” I pulled her into my room, sat her down on my bed, and opened my night stand drawer.

“Does the abridged version mean we’re skipping to the part where we hook up in a school bathroom? Because that’s the vibe I’m getting here.”

“MJ!”

“What? It’s not like we’ve never hooked up in a school bathroom before. I wouldn’t put it past you.”

I pulled out the box I was looking for. “You know, if memory serves me correctly, you were the one that initiated that.”

She scoffed. “It takes two to tango, Parker.”

I laughed. “You’re not wrong.” I handed her the box. “Open it.”

MJ gave me a skeptical look. “It’s not, like, gonna pop out at me, right?”

“No, it’s not,” I promised.

She opened the box, slowly. I watched her expression go from skeptical to surprised to tearful. Inside was a gold necklace. On the front, it was a rose with a little diamond in the centre.

“Peter,” she whispered, “this is beautiful.”

“Turn it over.”

She reached in, and turned it over. On the back, there was a little spiderweb engraved into the medal.

“Peter,” she said again, tears spilling over.

“Hey, come here.”

I sat down next to her and pulled her into a hug. She buried her face in my shoulder and let out a couple of sobs. “Thank you.”

“Of course, MJ. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“Here, do you want me to help you put it on?” I asked. She pulled away from the hug and nodded. “Aw, love, I’m sorry I made you cry.” I swiped my thumbs under her eyes, wiping her tears away.

“It’s not your fault,” she muttered. “I just kinda came to terms with the fact that I’d never get to go to prom and that maybe you wouldn’t want to go with me and now it’s hitting me that…I don’t know, life goes on? I don’t have to stop everything because of Gargan?”

I smiled, and kissed her. Her bottom lip was still trembling slightly, but stilled as she relaxed into the kiss. I felt her weight slowly shift onto me as she let herself melt against me.

Eventually, she pulled away. “You still haven’t asked me.”

I laughed. “Are you serious?”

“Dead serious, Peter.”

I sighed. “Will you make me the happiest man alive and go to prom with me?”

She squinted. “Once more, with feeling.”

“MJ!”

She laughed. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. Yes, I’ll go to prom with you.”

I kissed her one more time, then took the box out of her hand.

“Turn around, love.”

She shifted, turning away from me, gathering her hair in one hand and pulling it over her shoulder. I pulled the necklace out of the box and clasped it around her neck.

She turned back around, fidgeting with the necklace. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

“I don’t know what I did to deserve _you_ , love,” I countered.

“I’m gonna have to try on my dress to see if it still fits, aren’t I?” MJ mumbled, still distracted by the necklace.

“Do you wanna do that now, so I can see you in it?”

She laughed. “I told you, Peter. You get to see me in the dress the night of prom.”

I huffed. “I think that’s a garbage rule.”

“You know what else is on the night of prom?” she asked.

“What?”

“That’s the day the four weeks is up.”

I frowned. “Four weeks of what?”

“Four weeks of no sexual activity.”

“Oh.”

She laughed. “You’re such a dork.”

“Hey, leave me alone!” I started tickling her, and she giggled, falling back on the bed. I got on top of her, sliding my hands under her shirt to tickle her. She wriggled under me, laughing.

“Peter!” She grabbed the fabric of my shirt in handful, and tried to flip us over. Unfortunately for her, I was just slightly stronger, due to my spidey DNA, and she ended up just tugging helplessly at my shirt.

“You know, if you wanna take my shirt off, you’ll have to wait a week.”

“Oh, shut up.”

I laughed, leaning down and kissing her. She moaned a little when I did, hands releasing my shirt to tangle in my hair.

And while I was busy thinking about how much I loved her, she took advantage of me being off my guard and flipped us both over.

“Hey!”

“All’s fair in love and war.”

I grabbed her by the hips and flipped her back over.

“Okay, except using your spidey powers to tickle your girlfriend until she pisses herself.”

I laughed. “Hey, I stopped tickling you.”

“Yeah, now we’re just wrestling on my bed when you know damn well it’s not gonna end the way we want it to.”

I could feel my cheeks warming. “Maybe I should ask Doctor Cho to add another week or two to your no-sex rule, just so you stop making terrible sex jokes.”

“That’s like pouring water on a grease fire,” she countered. “I’ll get more frustrated, then I’ll make more jokes. Before you know it, I’ll be saying ‘title of your sex tape’ every other sentence.”

I grinned. “I don’t know if that’s such a bad idea.”

She hit my shoulder playfully. “You act like my no-sex sentence isn’t also your no-sex sentence.”

“Fair enough, fair enough.” I leaned down and kissed her again. “I just like seeing you get all riled up.”

“Is that your kink, Peter?”

I dropped my face into your shoulder. “You’re killing me, love.”

“Yeah, that’s my job.”

We ended up cuddled together on her bed, drifting in and out of sleep. She’d wake up, and mumble an “I love you” or a “we should get up”, and then fall asleep again. I’d wake up, and admire how the necklace looked on her.

Best money I ever spent.

And I was so glad I didn’t have to bury her with it.


	12. senior prom

_\---Peter---_

Should I have been nervous for prom? Not at all. I’d been dating this girl for almost a year, we’d gotten through absolute hell together, and I knew her dad wasn’t going to try to kill me. All in all, I should’ve been absolutely calm.

But when I showed up at the compound, my hands were clammy.

“Hey, kid,” Mr. Stark greeted, opening the door. “MJ’s just putting the final touches on her makeup or something. Come in.”

He led me to the residence wing, and we waited at the base of the stairs.

“Nice corsage,” he mentioned.

I glanced down. I’d forgotten I was even holding it. It was simple, just a pale pink rose and some baby’s breath. “Thanks.”

All I knew about her dress going in was the colour. I’d asked her what colour it was so I could match my tie, and she’d sent me a picture of a corner of the dress. And, hey, pale pink and navy blue look good together, right? Right?

Yep. Shouldn’t be this nervous at all.

“Hi! Sorry I took so long!” MJ called from down the hall. She appeared from around the corner, giving me a nervous smile.

She was…so gorgeous.

Her dress was long and brushed over the floor, swishing around her as she walked. It had these…embroidered (?) flowers over the top half. The neckline was a deep V-neck, and she was wearing the necklace I’d given her.

Wow, I had butterflies in my stomach.

“You look…wow.”

She laughed nervously. “Thanks. Not so bad yourself, Parker.”

“Alright,” Mr. Stark interrupted, “you guys are staying with May tonight, right?”

Both of us nodded.

“Text me when you’re home safe, honey. Happy and Rhodey are already at the school. MJ, you have your little gauntlet thing?”

She held up her wrist, showing off her gold bangle. “Got it.”

“Peter, you’ve got your web shooters?”

I pulled up my sleeve a little. “Check.”

“Okay, you guys have fun, call me if anything happens, I love you.”

“Love you, too, Dad.”

“Love you, too, Mr. Stark.”

He smiled, big and proud.

I took MJ’s hand, and we headed out to my car. Just as we got out the doors, she said, “So, uh, you ever plan on giving me the corsage?”

I looked down. “Oh, right. Sorry, I got distracted.” I opened the little plastic box and pulled out the corsage.

“You didn’t make a joke about it not being for me,” she said, surprised. She held out her hand so I could slide it onto her wrist.

“Sorry, you kinda fried my last two braincells.”

She raised an eyebrow at me.

“You’re too pretty for me to think,” I admitted.

She laughed. “Thanks, Peter. Remind me to slap on some mascara and lipstick more often.”

“Come on,” I said, walking around to the passenger side and opening the door. “We’ve got a prom to go to.”

She slid into her seat, and I closed the door behind her.

_\---MJ---_

Happy and Uncle Rhodes were standing in the parking lot when we got there, immediately spotting up pulling in. Peter and I got out of the car, and our two bodyguards were at our sides in the blink of an eye.

“You look lovely, MJ,” Rhodey said.

“I know that’s sincere, but the hand on the gun holster gives it a bit of a sinister tone,” I responded.

He laughed. “Sorry, gotta keep you safe somehow, MJ.”

Happy and Rhodey walked us into the school gym, then stood guard at the doors.

Ever the protective ones.

Peter led me onto the dance floor by my hand, grinning as he did.

It was loud and people were everywhere, dancing like idiots. The lights were bright and flashing and green and pink and blue and white and red and it was blinding, but I squeezed my eyes shut and let Peter pull me in.

“Hey, you okay?” he shouted over the music.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.”

“Have I told you how beautiful you are yet?”

I laughed. “Have I told you how beautiful you are?”

He grinned, pulling me closer to him, and leaning in so he could speak into my ear. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, dork.”

We danced like idiots, but the loud music with the intense bass and the flashing lights and the teenagers with flailing arms and legs and loud screams-

It was overwhelming.

“You sure you’re okay?”

I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment. “Can we…step outside the gym for a second?”

“Right. Of course.”

He pushed through the crowd, holding my hand as I followed close behind. Once we were out of the gym, near the concession and photo booths and all of that, I felt better.

“You sure you want to stay?” Peter asked. “We can go pick up some food and go back to my place-”

I shook my head. “It’s senior prom. We’re staying.”

“You don’t have to force yourself to stay for my sake-”

“No, I wanna enjoy it,” I insisted. “I like dances, I’ll like this one. I just…need to adjust, I guess.” That was the truth. I liked parties, and dances. I liked people-watching. I liked the opportunity to spend time with friends. I liked the memories. I wanted to like this one.

It was just…hard. The loud noises and jerky teenage limbs were putting me on edge.

But I could get over it.

“Come on, let’s just go back in. We’ll stick to the less crowded areas,” I said.

We went back into the gym, Peter leading me to a less populated pocket of it.

“MJ!”

Ned ran up to us, making me jump. He was wearing this deep forest green suit. It was a look.

“Hi.”

“You look amazing! You dressed up!”

I laughed. “Thanks, Ned. I’m digging the suit.”

He grinned. “Thank you.”

Peter sighed. “Hi. I’m here, too. Just, you know, haven’t been in school for weeks, also dressed up-”

“You look great, too, Peter,” Ned said.

“Thanks.”

“Where’s Betty?” I asked.

“She and Cindy went to the bathroom.”

I got bumped into by one of the football players, knocking me into Peter. The player barely looked at me before going back to his date.

“Hey, you okay?” Peter asked. I nodded. “You don’t look like you’re breathing.”

Oh. Right. Breathing.

I choked a little as I breathed in.

“Whoa, okay, let’s take you outside again.”

Peter pulled me out of the gym.

“Okay, take a breath, love.”

I tried to, but I couldn’t get air in.

“Five things you see,” Peter said gently.

“You,” I choked out. “Uh, floor. Shoes. Balloons. Dresses.”

“Good. Four things you can touch.”

I closed my eyes for a second. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. Breathe.”

“You. Flow- corsage. Your, um, tie. Uh…hair. I can touch my hair.”

Peter gave me a small, encouraging smile. “Three things you can hear.”

“You, music, talking.”

“Two things you can smell.”

“You, sweat.”

“One thing you can taste.”

“Perfume.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Perfume?”

“I accidentally sprayed some into my mouth earlier. That’s why I was late coming downstairs.”

He laughed, pulling me closer and dropping his forehead onto my shoulder.

“Listen, I was in a rush.”

“So, if I kiss you,” he began, lifting his head, stifling laughter, “would it taste like perfume?”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Try me.”

“If you insist.”

He tilted his head and leaned in, pressing his lips to mine.

“Nope,” he said, pulling away, “didn’t catch any perfume taste.”

“Really?” I asked. “Maybe you need to get in there a little more thoroughly.”

He laughed. “Maybe when we get home. You wanna go back in or do you wanna just get out of here?”

I took a deep breath, glancing at the gym doors. “Let’s go back in.”

“You sure? You just had a minor panic attack.”

“I’m fine. Let’s go dance.”

I pulled him into the gym, and we rejoined Ned.

“Hey, you okay, MJ?”

I nodded.

Betty and Cindy joined us, and the five of us danced in a circle.

The DJ kept playing loud club music, and people kept dancing like idiots, so I had to keep leaving the gym to take breathers. After the fourth or fifth break, Peter said, “I’m gonna go talk to the DJ.”

“Oh, no, Peter-”

He kissed my cheek and then disappeared into the crowd, trying to make his way to the DJ booth on the other side of the gym.

“I was gonna tell him to not do that but…this is fine.”

Betty patted my shoulder. “It’s Peter, what did you expect?”

He came back a few moments later. “Okay, the next three songs are slow songs, so hopefully that’ll make it easier on you.”

“Oh, man, all the jocks are gonna be so mad at you,” Ned said. “They don’t know how to dance, just jump up and down obnoxiously and grind on the cheerleaders.”

I snorted. “You’re not wrong.”

The next song started, so Peter took my hand and twirled me. I laughed as he pulled me back into his arms, hands falling to my waist.

“This is much nicer,” I admitted, sliding my arms over his shoulders and around his neck.

“You look a little more relaxed.”

I smiled. “Thank you, Peter.”

“Of course, MJ.”

I kissed him, leaning into his body a little more as I did.

“PDA!” Cindy shouted. We pulled apart, laughing. Cindy slid her hands between us, pushing our chests apart. “Leave room for Jesus.”

“You don’t even believe in Jesus, Moon,” I retorted with a smile.

“Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t leave room for him.” She turned away, hair flaring around dramatically around her.

I turned to Peter, laughing. He was just staring at me with a soft smile.

“What?”

“Nothing. You’re beautiful, that’s all.”

“How many times have you said that tonight?”

He shrugged. “Not enough.”

“You look amazing, too,” I told him.

He grinned at me. “Thanks.”

We leaned into each other, dancing to the next two and a half slow songs together. It was honestly really nice. He was wearing the fancy cologne he only wore for special occasions, and our friends were treating us normally, and I was having a good time.

The next really loud club song made me jump, though.

I gave in.

“Peter?” I asked.

“Yes?”

“Do you wanna take some pictures with our friends and then…go back to your place? Are you okay with that?”

“Yeah, of course.”

We rounded up our friends, and headed out of the gym. We took some photos, got a bunch of photo strips, and then said goodbye to our friends.

Happy and Uncle Rhodey walked us back to the car.

“You guys had fun?” Rhodey asked.

Peter looked at me, smiling. “Yeah.”

When we got to the car, I hugged Happy and Rhodey. “Thanks for playing bodyguard for the night.”

“Of course, kid,” Happy said fondly. “Had to make sure you’re safe. Have a good night, okay?”

“Thanks, you too.”

Peter said a quick goodbye to them, while opening the car door for me. I slid in, and he closed it behind me, then got into the driver’s seat.

“McDonald’s drive-thru?”

“Heck yeah.”

We left the school parking lot and headed to the nearest McDonald’s, picking up burgers, fries, and milkshakes. We picked at our fries in the car, but didn’t dig into the burgers until we got back to Peter’s.

“Do you wanna just watch a movie?” he asked.

“Sure.”

We sat down on the couch, eating our burgers and watching _Pitch Perfect_ in our prom clothes. When we were finished our food, we stuff the wrappers in the paper bag and cuddled into each other.

I laid my head on Peter’s chest.

“Thanks for being such a good boyfriend tonight,” I told him.

“Thanks for being such a good girlfriend.” He kissed the top of my head. I sighed, snuggling into him, and let my eyes fall shut.

_\---Peter---_

I didn’t even realize she’d drifted off until I noticed she wasn’t singing along softly with the movie. I looked down, and saw her sleeping. She looked so peaceful.

That was the first time in weeks I’d seen her sleep this peacefully.

And, good god, she was gorgeous. Her lipstick was a little smudged from the burger, and some of her mascara had transferred onto her eyelids, but somehow, she was still the most gorgeous woman in the universe.

Take that, Gargan.

But she’d kill me if I let her fall asleep in her makeup and dress, so I had to wake her up.

I really didn’t have the heart to.

I let her sleep until the end of the movie, then ran my hand through her hair a few times.

“MJ, love, wake up.”

She frowned, eyes still closed, turning her face into my chest. Did she have to be so impossibly cute?

“MJ,” I said again, kissing the top of her head. “You gotta get up, just for a bit.”

She blinked her eyes open, squeezing them shut and opening them again to blink the sleep away.

“Hi, sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“It’s okay. Let’s just change and go to bed, okay?”

She nodded, but then didn’t move.

“MJ.”

“Okay, okay,” she mumbled, sitting up. “I’m up.”

I kissed her cheek, then stood up. “Come on.” I held out my hand. She took it, and I pulled her to her feet. “Did I tell you how beautiful you are yet tonight?”

“Only about a million times,” she teased. “Thank you, Peter.”

I pulled her into the bathroom, and pulled one of May’s makeup wipes out for her.

“Thanks.”

“I’m gonna go change,” I told her.

“Mkay.”

I went to my room, and changed out of my suit, opting to wear sweatpants to bed.

MJ came into the room, fresh faced. “Alright, you can undress me now,” she said sleepily.

“What?”

“Because, uh, Doctor Cho cleared me for sexual activity, so we were gonna do that tonight.”

“Love, you’re exhausted, let’s just go to sleep.”

She looked at me, giving me a half-hopeful, half-concerned look. “Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure.”

“But it’s prom night.”

I sighed. “MJ, I’d feel much better about it if we just cuddled up and fell asleep. Just get changed, okay? You can wear my clothes. I’m gonna go brush my teeth.”

I kissed her forehead and left the room.

I brushed my teeth, and when I went back to my room, she was sitting on my bed, wearing one of my shirts and a pair of my boxers.

“How do you look better in my clothes than I do?” I complained.

She laughed. “I don’t.”

“Yes, you do.”

I laid down on the bed, and she cuddled into me. I pulled the blankets up around us.

“You’re warm,” she breathed as she kissed my jaw. I turned to face her, kissing her properly. She hummed happily against my lips, making me smile. I wrapped my arms around her, and rolled onto my back, so all of her weight was on me. Her hair fell onto me, tickling my neck and forehead. “Sorry,” she mumbled, trying to move her hair away. She couldn’t grab all of her curls in her hands, and accidentally rolled off of me in the process, giggling. I rolled onto her, brushing hair out of her face.

“I love you.”

“So you’ve mentioned,” she teased, wrapping her arms around my neck and pulling me down so she could kiss me again.

I’d missed this so much. Just making out with her, innocently. It felt like we were the only two people that existed.

And, god, I was so much happier here, in my bed, kissing MJ, than at any prom afterparty.

Then she hooked her leg around me, pulling my hips down.

“MJ,” I mumbled. She took that opportunity to kiss along my jawline. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block it out so I wasn’t tempted, but her lips were soft and warm. “You’re tired, we don’t have to do anything.”

“You wanted to,” she breathed. Her breath was hot on my neck.

“Not if you don’t want to, or-or you’re not gonna enjoy it.”

She didn’t answer that, opting to kiss down my neck instead.

“Stop,” I told her, “just-just for a second.”

She did, her head falling back against the pillow. “Did I do something?”

“No, I just…do you actually want to have sex right now, or are you doing all of this because you think I want to?”

“Do you not want you?” she asked, skirting around my question.

“Only if you want to.”

She bit her lip nervously.

“MJ, just tell me whether or not you want to do anything tonight.”

“I mean,” she started, “I wouldn’t mind at all, I’m just tired.”

“Yes or no?”

She sighed, head falling to the side so she didn’t have to look at me. “No.” Her voice was small, almost scared.

“Okay.” I rolled off of her and laid down again.

“But-”

“We have the rest of our lives for that, love. Just because it’s prom night, doesn’t mean you owe me sex.”

She was silent for a moment, so I looked at her. Her bottom lip was trembling, like she was about to cry. “I’m sorry.”

“No, no no no, don’t be sorry,” I said, pulling her into a hug. Her weight fell on my arm, but the mattress was soft enough that it didn’t hurt. “Don’t be sorry.”

“I love you,” she whispered into my shoulder, her voice muffled.

“I love you, too.”

“Goodnight, Peter.”

“Goodnight, love.”

_\---Tony Stark---_

“Tony, you gotta get some rest.”

“No, I’m close, I can- I can _feel_ it,” I insisted.

Pepper came around my desk and leaned over, resting her chin on my shoulder, and wrapping her arms around my midsection. “Tony.”

I pointed at the screen. “Look at this. I’ve narrowed it down to a two-mile radius. I’m close, honey.”

“He doesn’t need to be caught right this minute.”

“But-”

“It’s almost three in the morning,” Pepper reminded me. “Come to bed.” She kissed my cheek. “Please, Tony, it’s cold upstairs, and you’re a space heater.”

I turned in the chair. Pepper was wearing one of my button-downs and…nothing else. “Honey, I love you, but this is Mac Gargan, okay? He hurt MJ. I need to-”

“Rest. Sleep. You need to have energy when you go after him.”

I picked up my coffee mug and took a sip, staring at her. “I slept yesterday, I’m fine.”

She sighed. “It’s bad that that’s above average for you.”

“Listen,” I said, setting down my mug and standing up, “once I’ve handled Gargan, I’ll sleep six hours every night, I promise.”

“Tony-”

“Honey, I promise.”

She sighed, looking away, then back to me. “Fine. I’m holding that to you, though.”

“You can hold anything you want against me after I get this guy,” I said, only somewhat suggestively.

She half-scoffed, half-laughed. “Whatever. Goodnight, I love you, don’t do anything dumb.”

“I love you, too.”

She left my workshop, and I turned back to my laptop.

It took me an hour, but I narrowed it down to a one mile radius. Within that one mile radius, there was a building the NYPD had told me was “infested with all kinds of criminal activity” when MJ was missing. It hadn’t been where Gargan was, but a couple of his colleagues had been.

Fuck it. It was worth a shot.

I suited up, told FRIDAY to alert Pepper where I was if she woke up, and then left.

The flight into the city was long and chilly. I didn’t wanna waste power by using the heating function on my suit, because I didn’t know how long I’d be in the city, so instead I shivered, the whole way into New York City.

“FRIDAY, any recent criminal activity at the den?”

“One known drug deal involving Mac Gargan, four hours ago,” she recited.

“Sounds about right.”

I landed behind the building, and the suit retracted, folding back into the reactor on my chest.

“Something tells me I should’ve brought a handgun,” I said to myself, realizing how sketchy this neighbourhood was. I went around the side of the building to the door, trying the knob. It was, understandably, locked. I backed up, and gave it a good hard kick. Didn’t budge. “FRIDAY, give me my right gauntlet.”

Metal wrapped around my hand. I pointed my hand at the door, and blasted the lock off.

“Thank you, dear.”

I pulled the door open and entered.

The whole building reeked of weed.

“Yo, did y’all hear somethin’?” The voice was muffled, distant. It definitely came from downstairs.

“Get your guns.”

That was Gargan’s voice.

I pulled the strings on my hoodie, and the suit expanded again, then headed down the stairs into the basement.

I was greeted with five handguns pointed at me, three of which were shaking.

“You’re up late,” Gargan said. His gun wasn’t shaking. He was probably sober.

“Well, you know, I broke that rule about not having caffeine too late-”

“Take off the suit, Stark.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. My heads-up display was showing me his mugshot and his criminal record. “Yeah, that’s not gonna happen.” The metal on my shoulders parted, and a few explosives popped up. “Are we gonna tango or what?”

The tall one, the one who was usually masked, pulled something out of his pocket and threw it on the ground. It exploded in a cloud of smoke.

“Out!” he ordered.

“Launch,” I told FRIDAY.

The explosives launched from my shoulders, chasing the five guys deeper into the basement. Each blew up before hitting anybody, except that it hit the one guy’s shoe and knocked him onto the ground. His leg was bleeding, but it wasn’t Gargan, so I wasn’t concerned.

Gunshots started to go off, and pinged off of my suit. I could feel the impact, but it didn’t hurt.

It was dark and smoky down here. How the hell was I supposed to get Gargan?

“Stark!”

I turned to the voice, and something big and wooden hit me, knocking me onto my back. I put my hand to it and blasted it, but instead of pushing it off, it just put a hole in the surface. I pushed it off, frustrated, only to realize they were booking it.

I turned and headed for the stairs. Gargan was last up the stairs, so I jumped up and flew after him. He smacked the wall as he turned a corner.

And then I was blown back, out of the air, back into the basement.

I hit the ground hard. My heads-up display was glitching, FRIDAY was saying something, but my ears were ringing too loudly for me to focus. I started to struggle to breathe, so the helmet retracted. I coughed, my chest seizing up.

Maybe Pepper was right. Should’ve gone to bed.

The air was hot, and the dust from the explosion was settling around me, flecks of grey and brown swirling in the air.

Maybe I had a concussion.

“FRIDAY,” I coughed. “Call, um, Rhodey, or something. To let him know I didn’t- didn’t get Gargan.”

“Dialling Colonel James Rhodes.”

I started to get up, coughing. Wow, I felt old right now.

“Tony? It’s, like, five in the morning.”

“I tried to go after Gargan,” I said, strained.

Rhodey sighed heavily. “Do you need me to come get you?”

“No, no, I’m fine. I’ll get home fine. I just thought I should, um, tell you, so you could keep the search algorithm running. Did- did Peter and MJ text you?”

“Yeah, they left prom early, they’ve been at May’s for hours. Happy’s staking out the building to make sure nobody fishy goes in.”

“Okay.” I sighed, relieved. “I’ll be back in an hour.”

“Sounds good.”

He hung up.

Okay, now to shake off the post-explosion dizziness and fly back to the compound.

I flew up to the stop of the stairs, and stepped out of the building, breathing in the fresh air.

I’d find him. Not today, but soon.

And then he was in for it.

For now, I went home.


	13. take two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> taking a break from gargan drama with a bit of fluff. sorry for any typos, it's one in the morning and i'm bopping to the spiderverse album so my editing isn't at its peak oops

_\---MJ---_

Sunlight hit my eyelids, waking me up. I pulled blankets up over my head to shield my eyes, hoping I could go back to sleep.

I went to turn into Peter’s side, but just rolled over.

He wasn’t there.

I sat up, blinking my eyes open. Had he gone out in the suit or something?

“-thank you so much, Ms. Potts.” It was Peter’s voice, coming faintly from the living room. “Yeah, I can email them over right now…mhm, I’ve got that part handled. Great. Thank you so much. I’ll see you later.”

He gently pushed the door open, looking surprised when he saw me awake and sitting up.

God, he looked gorgeous. Sunlight lit up his face, the soft smile on his lips.

“Did I wake you up?” he asked.

“No, I don’t think so. Why were you talking to Pepper?”

“Oh, um, just some stuff for your dad,” he lied, badly.

I frowned. “Are you sure?”

“It’s…a surprise.” That was the truth. “Here, we can cuddle for a bit if you want.”

“Yeah, I’ll take it,” I teased, lifting the blankets so he could get under them. He crawled in next to me, pulling me into his arms. I laid my head on his chest, relaxing again.

“Sorry I wasn’t here when you woke up. I tried not to wake you up, and I was hoping I’d be back in bed before you did-”

“It’s okay, Peter. I’m a big girl.”

He kissed the top of my head. “I know. I just wanna be here for you.”

He started playing with my hair, and I fell asleep again soon after.

_\---Peter---_

Once MJ fell asleep again, I emailed Ms. Potts my friends’ phone numbers, so she could send out an invite for tonight. She’d helped me plan a second prom. Rhodey was going to DJ, Happy was gonna drive the limo to pick us all up, and Ms. Potts and Miss Romanoff were going to decorate the combat training gym.

All I had to do was make sure our friends were ready and at my place by seven tonight.

I had ten hours to make that happen.

The sunlight streaming in through the window was lighting up MJ’s face. There was a piece of hair falling across her face, fluttering when she breathed. I gently brushed it away, tucking it behind her ear. She smiled a little when my fingers brushed over her skin.

It made my heart beat faster.

I was too excited about our mini prom to fall back to sleep, so I laid there while she slept, watching her face in case she started to have a nightmare.

And also because I really loved staring at her face.

She slept for another half hour before slowly waking up, facing scrunching as she did.

“How long did I sleep?” she groaned.

“Not long. You can go back to sleep if you want to.”

She shook her head. “I’m hungry.”

I smiled at her. She was so cute when she was sleepy. “Wanna go get brunch?”

She rolled off of me, laying on her back, rubbing her eyes. “Sure.”

I rolled over, onto her. “Hey.”

She opened her eyes, squinting at me. “Hi, dork, you wanna get off of me so we can get up?”

“Nope.”

She sighed. “Peter.”

I lowered myself so I could kiss her. She turned her head away.

“Lemme brush my teeth first, Jesus.”

I laughed, brushing hair away from her face. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, but get off of me.”

I got off of her, as per request. She got out of bed, standing up and going to my closet.

“Why don’t you have any of my clothes?” she asked.

“You stole them all back, remember?”

“Right. Because they smelled like you.”

I couldn’t help but smile, watching her pick out one of my shirts and a pair of my sweatpants.

“Well, I’m gonna be the most underdressed person at brunch but that’s fine,” she huffed.

“Not that it matters, but I think you look perfect no matter what.”

She glared playfully at me. “Anyone ever tell you you’re full of bullshit, Parker?”

“No, because I’m not, Jones,” I shot back.

She just smiled and then went into my bathroom.

I put on a pair of jeans while she was in there, and found my wallet. When she came out of the bathroom, I was googling the address of a diner.

“You ready to go?”

“Yep. Also, I brushed my teeth, so I’m ready for that kiss.”

I grinned, putting my phone in my pocket so I could take her hands and pull her in. I kissed her, and her lips tasted like my peppermint toothpaste. I slid my arms around her waist, hugging her tight to my body. She hummed happily, her arms wrapping around my neck.

Her stomach growled, and I felt myself tense. I’d trained myself to keep her fed to avoid that exact sound because we’d been scared about her starving. I knew she was just hungry because it was breakfast time, but it made me anxious.

“Let’s go,” I said, pulling out of her arms and heading towards the door.

“Hey, whoa.” She stopped me, her hand wrapping around my wrist and pulling me back. “What’s wrong?

“Nothing. It’s nothing, I promise. Let’s just get some food in you.”

I tried to pull her out the door, but she stopped me. “Oh, I see, it’s about me eating.”

“Can you blame me?” I asked her, kind of defeated.

“No. Also, I’m hungry, so let’s _go_.”

_\---MJ---_

We went and got pancakes at a diner nearby, then headed back to Peter’s. We mostly just sat on the couch, facing each other, legs tangled in the middle, and scrolled through social media on our phones, occasionally showing each other a meme.

He looked…tense. Like there was something he wanted to say to me, but he couldn’t.

After a while, I got anxious about it.

“Peter?”

“Mhm?”

“You look like there’s something on your mind.”

He squirmed a little. “It’s supposed to be kind of a surprise.”

I raised an eyebrow at him.

“Okay, fine, but I wasn’t supposed to tell you until everyone else had texted Ms. Potts back-”

“Everyone else?” I interrupted. “Who’s everyone else?”

“The decathlon team,” Peter said.

I frowned. “Why are they texting Pepper?”

“Because…she’s organizing a mini prom at the compound tonight.”

_“WHAT?”_

“I know, I should’ve asked-”

I crawled on top of him and kissed him, muffling him. I was straddling his hips and holding his face in my hands, kissing him hard.

“MJ,” he mumbled.

“Thank you.”

He looked at me, confused. “You’re not mad?”

“Are you serious? I get a prom do-over.”

He smiled big, his whole face lighting up. I kissed him again, letting more of my weight fall on him. He held me by my waist, fingers pressed into my skin.

“I’m glad you’re excited,” he said, pulling away for a moment.

“Of course I’m excited, you organized a whole dance just for me.”

“I wanted you to be able to enjoy your prom, like you wanted to.”

“I love you,” I told him, meaning every word.

He smiled at me. “I love you, too.”

I pressed my lips to his one more time, then laid down on top of him, curling up and tucking my head under his chin. He wrapped his arms around me.

I don’t know what I did to deserve him.

“I should get ready, shouldn’t I?”

He tightened his arms around me. “Not yet.”

I laughed a little. “You know I’m gonna have to wash my hair and do my makeup and get back into that dress, right?”

“I know, but it’s early, we have time.”

I sighed. “I should shower so my hair dries in time.”

Peter groaned, holding me tighter.

“Peter,” I whined.

“Just a minute,” he mumbled.

“You can get in the shower with me.”

He hummed indecisively. “You really know how to tempt me, don’t you?”

I kissed under his jaw. “Mhm.”

He loosened his arms. “Okay, let’s take a shower.”

I got off of him, then helped him off of the couch.

We got in the shower, hot water spraying on both of us. His shower wasn’t really big enough for both of us, but we made it work.

The shower was a lot longer than either of us anticipated, on account of it being tricky to wash my hair and everything with another body pressed up next to me, and because we might’ve done a little bit of hand stuff, since I’d been too tired to do anything last night.

When we got out of the shower, my legs were a little weak, so Peter helped me put my (well, his) clothes back on, and then stood next to me while I dried my hair, steadying me whenever I started to lose my balance.

I gave up halfway through blow drying my hair, deciding it could air dry the rest of the way, and found my lipstick from last night. I didn’t bring my mascara, but oh, well. We’d be heading back to the compound, anyways, I could put some on then if I really wanted to.

I put on my lipstick, struggling to get the lines clean.

“When is everyone else meeting us?”

“Uh, in an hour?” Peter said. “I told them to be here for six-forty-five, so Happy can pick us all up at seven.”

“Alright. You’re gonna have to help me with my dress, because I had to get Pepper to zip me up yesterday.”

He laughed. “Whatever you need.”

Once I was happy with my lipstick, I undressed and stepped into my prom dress. I held up my hair, and Peter zipped up the back, planting a soft kiss on my shoulder when he was done.

“Do you want me to help me with your necklace, too?” he asked.

“Sure.”

I passed him the necklace, and watched in the mirror as he clasped it around my neck. He was biting his tongue in concentration, eyes narrowed as he clasped the necklace.

He put his hands on my shoulders, leaned over and kissed my cheek. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you.” I turned around and slid my arms around his neck, smiling at him.

Peter held me by my waist, kissing my nose. “I’m so lucky.”

“Me too.”

There was a knock at the door.

“I’ll get it,” Peter said, letting go of me.

I put my bangle and the corsage on, and went out into the living room. Ned and Betty were there, looking just as fancy as last night. There was another knock at the door, and Liz, Flash, and Cindy were standing there when Peter opened the door.

“Liz!”

She ran in and hugged me. “Hi! I’m so happy to see you!”

I let her squeeze me as tight as she wanted. After all, she probably thought she’d never see me again.

“I missed you,” I admitted.

“I missed you, too. I’m glad I could come.”

She pulled away, giving me a smile.

“Alright, Happy’s downstairs in the limo,” Peter announced. “Let’s head out.”

We headed out of his apartment. He and I hung back, staying to the back of the group.

“Thank you so much, Peter,” I said, sliding my hand into his.

“No problem, love.”

We all went downstairs, and Happy was standing outside the limo.

“Hey, Happy!” Ned greeted, starting a chorus of “hello”s and “hi”s and “thank you for picking us up”s as he opened the door and everyone piled into the limo.

“Hi,” Peter said, “thanks for driving us, Happy.”

Happy smiled at us. “Anything for you two.”

We got into the limo, and Happy got into the driver’s seat, passing me the AUX cord. I gave it to Betty, knowing she had a better party playlist than I did, and we sang to party music the whole way to the base, dancing badly in our seats.

An Ariana Grande song came on, one with a lot of high notes, and I was singing along with everybody else. Except that everybody else ditched the high notes, and I hit them perfectly.

I realized everyone was staring at me.

“What?”

“You can _sing_ , dude,” Ned remarked, surprised as hell.

Everyone else nodded.

“How did I not know about this? You sing in the shower all the time.” Peter squeezed my hand, giving me a weird look.

“You’re probably distracting her,” Flash said suggestively.

“Oh, grow up, Flash,” Cindy said.

I shrugged. “No, he’s not wrong.”

The limo erupted with reactions, from Peter’s soft “hey” and the blush creeping up his neck, to Flash’s “ayyyy” and the awkward fist bump I received.

After that, Betty queued up songs with challenging riffs, trying to test my limits. Once we had exhausted my vocal range, Flash stole Betty’s phone and queued up Flo Rida.

We bopped for the rest of the car ride.

Peter turned his face into the side of my head. “How’d you hide your voice from me for this long?” he whispered into my ear.

I shrugged. “We don’t listen to a lot of Ariana Grande, I don’t sing a lot, it just never came up.”

“Well, I think you have a beautiful voice,” he said.

“Thanks, Peter.”

We got to the compound, and Happy opened the door, allowing us to clamber out of the limo and head into the compound.

There was glitter and confetti leading to the training gym, and Peter made me walk in first, leading the group.

Honestly, I felt like a princess.

The gym was decorated with streamers and balloons, and there were tabled of snacks and drinks along the back wall. Uncle Rhodes was standing in the DJ booth, glow in the dark makeup smeared in streaks under his eyes, cheesy neon headphones on. Pepper and Aunty Nat and even Uncle Steve were standing there, greeting us.

“Okay, Peter, I’m gonna steal the first dance,” Steve said, taking my hand. “Haven’t seen MJ since…”

“Go ahead,” Peter replied.

Steve led me onto the dance floor. “I learned how to dance a little,” Steve told me.

“Oh?”

“Well, from the internet.”

My friends started dancing around us, doing that dumb party dancing where you’re jumping and flailing without much rhythm. Steve started busting out some really good moves, gesturing for me to try to follow his lead. I knew I couldn’t keep up, but I gave it a good try, laughing at myself as I did.

He didn’t say it, but he looked proud of himself for being able to make me laugh.

He twirled me a couple times, ending the dance by hugging me tight.

“I love you, kiddo.”

“I know, Uncle Steve. I love you, too.”

Nat cut in. “Okay, I’m stealing you now, MJ.”

Steve feigned offence. “How dare you?”

“Shut it, old man,” she teased. “She can’t be expected to dance with an artifact all night.”

“At least one of us made it into the Smithsonian,” Steve shot back.

Nat gave him a sharp glare, and took my hand. I glanced at Peter, who was stifling laughter.

Nat and I danced badly to the next song, laughing at each other’s missteps and bad dance moves.

After that, we all danced in a group, even Pepper and Happy. Rhodey was dancing badly in the DJ booth, and the rest of us were dancing badly on the floor.

It was one of those moments I was happy to be alive for. Betty and Ned giving each other loving glances or big smiles. Flash dancing embarrassingly badly. Nat and Pepper dancing with each other, allowing themselves to be goofy. Happy and Steve trying to out-old-man each other with the bad dancing. Cindy and Liz going through fancy jive moves. Peter smiling at me as I held up my dress with one hand, so I didn’t trip and fall.

I was happy.

We danced and sang our hearts out, until our feet were sore from dancing, our throats were sore from screaming, and our faces hurt from smiling and laughter.

When we’d danced ourselves out, Pepper led us to the kitchen, where Dad was standing by a table packed with McDonald’s bags.

“You guys work up an appetite yet?”

I ran over and gave him a hug, audibly knocking the air out of him. “You’re the best, Dad.”

“Hey, I’m just helping Peter with his vision. He’s the real hero here.”

I saw the smile on Peter’s face when Dad called him a hero. It was adorable.

We all sat down and gorged on chicken nuggets and milkshakes and fries until we felt sick.

The girls and I went up to my room after we ate, changing into sweats and taking off our makeup. We laughed at each other as we wore sheet masks and looked like serial killers.

“Honestly, what do boys even do at sleepovers if it’s not performative self-care?” Liz joked.

“Talk about their dicks?” Cindy pitched.

I snorted. “I mean, depends on the guys. Peter and Ned would just build LEGO sets.”

“And then watch Star Wars,” Betty added. “ _A New Hope_ or _The Force Awakens_.”

“Or _Empire Strikes Back_. Peter’s a fan of that one.”

She laughed. “We have the nerdiest boyfriends.”

“Okay, we get it, you’re in love,” Cindy interrupted. “Some of us are lonely.”

“Some of us are desperate and on Tinder,” Liz added.

I laughed. “You need to get off of that,” I told her.

“Nah, that’s how I met my fuckbuddy.”

“Alright, get it, girl,” Cindy said.

We headed back downstairs, giggling, and went to the living room. The guys were already seated, scrolling through Netflix. I sat down next to Peter, letting him slide his arm around my waist. The Cindy and Flash were arguing about movies, Cindy trying to steal the remote from Flash. I looked at Peter, amused.

“We have the best friends.”

He kissed me, soft and slow. “We really do.”

“Is the PDA really necessary?” Cindy complained.

I rolled my eyes. “I can do worse, Moon.”

She covered her eyes with her hands dramatically. “I’m a child!”

We all laughed, including Cindy.

Flash picked a movie, and we settled in. Dad brought some popcorn in, a few bowls balanced precariously so we didn’t have to pass one around. I snuggled into Peter, a bowl of popcorn balanced on our legs.

“How was that for prom?” Peter asked.

“Amazing,” I responded sleepily, nuzzling my face into his neck. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you, love.”

I drifted off, despite the movie and our friends being loud.


	14. pale pink and navy blue

_\---MJ---_

“Happy birthday to you,” everyone sang, waking me up, “happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear MJ, happy birthday to you!”

I groaned, sitting up. “I hate you guys.”

Peter laughed, kissing my temple. “You love us.”

“How’s it feel to be an adult?” Flash asked.

“Well, now I’ll be punished harder if I kill you, so you might be safe.”

There was a chorus of “ooh”s.

“Alright, starting off your adulthood with thinly veiled threats. That’s respectable,” Cindy said.

I stretched my arms up over my head. “I try.”

“Come on, Mr. Stark made breakfast,” Peter said. “And it’s not omelets.”

“Oh? I’m intrigued.”

We all went to the dining room, and there was a buffet of waffles, French toast, pancakes, along with whipped cream, fruit, and syrup.

“Birthday girl first,” Ned said.

I loaded up a plate with waffles, syrup, fruit, and whipped cream. Hey, it was my birthday, I might as well go for the full nine yards.

Peter sat down next to me, plate stacked with French toast, syrup drenching his toast. I dug my fork into one of his pieces of toast, taking a chunk for myself.

“I’m only letting that slide because it’s your birthday.”

“Respect your elders, Peter,” Betty scolded jokingly. He chuckled.

My dad came in with a pitcher of orange juice. “Glad to see you all up and at ‘em. Orange juice?”

We all nodded, and he poured us each a glass, kissing the top of my head when he got around to me.

“Happy birthday, honey.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

Liz was staring at her pancakes like they were the most interesting thing on the planet.

The day was nice. We ate breakfast, played video games as a group (nobody would admit to going easy on me, but they were), Dad ordered us Five Guys later on, and then mid-afternoon, Happy drove everyone but Peter and I back into the city.

By this point in the day, I was pretty tired. I laid across the couch in the living room, Peter sitting against it so I could play with his hair while we watched a movie.

Dad came into the living room. “Hey, honey, mind if I join you guys?”

“Yeah, sure.”

He sat down next to Peter on the floor. “Anything special you wanna do today, MJ? To commemorate?”

“I could get a tattoo,” I joked.

Dad turned to look at me. “Do you wanna?”

I stared at him. “Would you actually be okay with that?”

He nodded. “MJ, I have done way more regrettable things than get a tattoo. Plus, I think you can handle the pain.”

“Too soon,” Peter said.

I laughed. “Nah, he’s right. A needle isn’t gonna bug me.”

“You could get one of your art pieces tattooed onto you,” Dad suggested.

“Can I vote for one?” Peter asked, opening his phone. “I have a photo album of your art, and there’s one that I think would be great as a tattoo.”

“I swear, Peter, if you pull up a picture of your face-”

“No, no, I won’t.”

He pulled up a picture of a doodle I’d done in class a few weeks ago, the day Gargan had kidnapped me again. It was a tiny sunflower, done in blue pen on the corner of a math worksheet.

Dad looked at it. “That’d be perfect.”

I stared at it. It felt like a perfect metaphor for the past couple months. Looking for the bright side, trying to grow and thrive and heal.  

“Shouldn’t I think on it?” I asked my dad. I was completely sure I wanted it, now that I’d seen it, but who’s dad is cool with an impulse decision tattoo? That shit’s permanent.

He stood up. “Let’s go into the city.”

I looked at Peter, who just shrugged.

“Alright, let’s do it.”

_\---Peter---_

The drive into the city was pretty fun. Mr. Stark put on some good music, and we did some overly passionate singing. He took us straight to a tattoo parlour, and went we walked in, the Miss Romanoff was sitting at a desk, drawing on a big piece of paper.

“Hey, Nat, you got a couple minutes?” Mr. Stark asked.

She looked up. “Mishy!” She stood up and hurried over, pulling MJ into a tight hug. MJ was smiling as her chin rested on Miss Romanoff’s shoulder. “Happy birthday, kiddo!”

“Thank you,” MJ said, pulling away. Miss Romanoff looked at her fondly.

“So, am I tattooing you for your birthday?”

Mr. Stark nodded. “Peter, you have the reference picture, right?”

I pulled it up, and handed my phone to Miss Romanoff.

“Do you want it in the blue, or plain old black?”

“Blue, please.”

“Okay, come over here.”

We sat down around Miss Romanoff’s desk. She used my phone to draw the design on a piece of tracing paper, then handed it back. I slipped it back into my pocket.

“Where do you want it?” she asked MJ.

“Right on my forehead,” MJ joked. “Just make me look like Post Malone.”

Miss Romanoff looked at Mr. Stark, completely deadpan. “Glad she got your sense of humour.”

I laughed.

“What about my ribcage?” MJ asked.

Miss Romanoff frowned. “That can be a little more painful than most areas.”

She shrugged. “Yeah, but it’s easily hidden, and it’ll look cute.”

“If you think you can handle it.”

MJ sighed a little. “I’ve handled much worse.”

Miss Romanoff had MJ take her shirt off, and transferred the draft of the design onto her ribs. “Okay, look in the mirror. How does that look?”

It took a little bit of tweaking to get it right. Once MJ was happy with it, Miss Romanoff had her lay down on a table and pulled out the tattoo gun.

“You’re sure about this, Mishy?”

She nodded. I sat down next to her, taking her hand. Mr. Stark sat on the other side of her, stroking her hair.

“Okay, it’s gonna feel like cat scratches. Let me know if you need a break at any point.”

And with that, she put the tattoo gun to MJ’s ribs. MJ did some deep breathing, looking fairly calm.

“How is it?” I asked.

“Not too bad. Definitely not as painful as being electrocuted.”

I smiled at her as comfortingly as possible. “I think you’re very brave.”

She winced a little as Miss Romanoff started to tattoo over bone. “Happy birthday to me.” She squeezed my hand a little, eyes shut tight.

“You’re doing great, honey,” Mr. Stark assured her.

I could see the muscles in her jaw flex as she clenched her teeth. As much as I hated her seeing in her in any type of pain, at least I wasn’t scared for her right now. She was safe. She didn’t have any life-threatening injuries, she wasn’t bleeding out. It was just a tattoo gun.

“Peter?”

“Yes, love?”

“What’s wrong?”

She wasn’t scared. She wasn’t scared for herself, she wasn’t scared to accept comfort from me or her dad. She wasn’t scared to squeeze my hand. She wasn’t scared to show pain on her face.

“Nothing, MJ. Everything’s fine.” I smiled at her, and she relaxed.

“Tell me after?”

I nodded, mostly just to calm her nerves.

Miss Romanoff pulled away when she finished the stem of the flower, wiping away blood and ink. “How you doing so far, Mishy?”

“Pretty good.”

“Do you need a breather? Something to bite down on?”

She shook her head. “I’m okay.”

Miss Romanoff went back in, doing the petals of the sunflower.

“I didn’t know you were a tattoo artist,” I said to Miss Romanoff.

She smiled. “I’ve got steady hands, and I needed an outlet that wasn’t shooting things.”

Mr. Stark scoffed. “Says who?”

“You’re the one who got mad at me for shooting cans while MJ was trying to sleep.”

“Yeah, because she was nine at the time,” Mr. Stark countered.

MJ smiled at me, amused.

“You still doing okay, kiddo? Need a break?”

“Yes, please,” MJ said. Miss Romanoff pulled the gun away.

“Do you wanna see what it looks like so far?” she asked. MJ nodded, so Miss Romanoff picked up a hand mirror off of her desk and used it to show her.

MJ smiled. “It looks great.”

“Do you want some water before we get back into it?”

Sitting up, MJ nodded. “I’m not gonna say no.”

Miss Romanoff got up, giving her a reassuring smile as she went to get some water for her.

“You feeling okay?” Mr. Stark asked her, squeezing her shoulder reassuringly.

“Yeah, I feel fine,” she said, and it sounded like the truth. “It feels kind of sore, but it’s manageable.”

Right. It was better than being shot, or stabbed, or electrocuted.

Miss Romanoff came back with a bottle of water, and handed it to MJ. She cracked it open and took a few sips, then held it out to me.

“Can you hold this?” she asked.

“Sure.”

She gave me the bottle, and then slipped her hand into my free one, laying back down. Miss Romanoff put on a new pair of latex gloves and picked up the tattoo gun.

“Okay, home stretch.”

MJ gave her a thumbs-up, and Miss Romanoff put the gun back to her skin.

MJ closed her eyes, wincing a little as the gun moved over bone, but was overall pretty calm.

When it was done, Miss Romanoff cleaned off the blood and ink and wrapped it in a bandage. She gave MJ and Mr. Stark some aftercare instructions, and then gave MJ another tight hug.

“Happy birthday, MJ.”

“Thanks for the tattoo,” she said.

“Yeah, take care of it. And yourself.”

We all said our goodbyes, Miss Romanoff whispering a reminder to look after MJ in my ear when she hugged me.

And then we headed back to the compound, and spent the rest of the night watching movies and eating popcorn and cake that Ms. Potts had ordered from town.

When MJ was yawning and struggling to keep her eyes open, Ms. Potts decided it was time for us to head upstairs.

“Come on, love,” I said, standing up and offering her my hand.

She took my hand, letting me pull her off of the couch.

“Goodnight, you guys,” Mr. Stark said. “Happy birthday, MJ.”

“Sleep well, you two,” Ms. Potts added.

“Thanks, goodnight,” MJ responded sleepily.

“Goodnight.”

I led MJ out of the living room and up into the residence wing. The second her bedroom door closed behind us, she grinned at me.

“What?”

She slid her arms around my neck and jumped, wrapping her legs around my waist. I caught her.

“Whoa, what happened to practically falling asleep on the couch two minutes ago?”

“I needed an excuse to get a moment alone with you. We’ve been surrounded by people all day.”

I smiled up at her. “I can be okay with a bit of alone time.”

She smiled back, then kissed me. “What kind of alone time?”

I grinned, turning around and dropping her onto her bed. She giggled, pulling me down on top of her.

_\---MJ---_

“Happy birthday,” Peter teased, breathless.

I laughed, snuggling into him a little more. “See? That was pretty adult.”

He pulled away from me a little to trace his fingers over my ribs. “So, are you enjoying being eighteen so far?”

I pretended to hum and haw. “I don’t know. I think I could be swayed into liking it more.”

“Is that so?”

“Mhm.”

He put his hands on my waist and pulled me on top of him. “Can I guess how?”

“Oh, I’d be happy to get the full presentation.”

\---

Another round later, we were cuddled up in my bed, my blankets and sheets a mess on top of us, both of us covered in a sheen of sweat.

“MJ?” Peter murmured into my hair.

“Mm?”

“Are you happy?” His voice was quiet and fragile.

I turned over so I could face him. “I don’t know,” I admitted. “But I think I’ll be okay.”

“For the record,” he whispered, “I think you’ll be okay, too.”

“You know you didn’t fail me, right?” I asked him, finding myself running my thumb over his forearm, over the line of tissue that felt just a little bit different.

He nodded. “I’m working on it.”

I kissed him, soft and gentle. “I hope you know you’re my knight in shining armour.”

He raised his eyebrows at me. “I thought this princess would save herself?”

“This princess almost died trying.”

He pressed his forehead to mine. “Well, then, I’m glad you’re alright with me and my red and blue steed.”

“Oh, and you’re sticky lassos.”

He laughed. “That sounds awful.”

I was laughing, too. “I know.”

He kissed me. “I love you, MJ.”

“I love you, too, Peter.”

\---

I woke up with my head on Peter’s chest and he was texting. I groaned a little, turning my face into his shoulder.

“Morning,” he chuckled, kissing my temple. “May wanted to know if you were alright with going into town for a bit to hang out with her today?”

I smiled sleepily at him. “We’d have to ask my dad, and he’d probably want to send Happy with us, but sure.”

“May actually asked Mr. Stark to join us.”

“Perfect,” I mumbled, cuddling back into him.

He chuckled again. “MJ, we should get up.”

I shook my head. “No, I’m sleepy.”

He dropped his phone on the nightstand and rolled on top of me, tickling me.

“Ow, Peter!” I yelped as he tickled over my ribs.

“Oh my god, your tattoo. I’m so sorry.”

I laughed. “It’s okay, it’s just a little sensitive.”

He was giving me puppy eyes. “You sure?”

“Yes, Peter, I’m fine. On the bright side, I’m definitely awake.”

He dropped his forehead onto my shoulder. “I’m sorry, love.”

“It’s okay,” I repeated. “Wanna get off of me so I can put on some clothes?”

He rolled off of me. I got out of bed and went to my closer to get dressed.

“I don’t know why I willingly let you go to get dressed,” Peter mused.

“Guilt and commitments with your aunt?” I suggested.

“Yeah, that probably did it.” He laughed. It felt good to hear him laugh.

I got dressed. “You want me to bring you some clean clothes from your room?”

“Yes, please.”

I smiled at him, then went to his room, grabbing him some clothes, and then came back and left them on the bed for him. I went into my bathroom while he changed, brushing my teeth and washing my face and pulling my hair into a ponytail. He came and joined me, sliding his arms around my waist and resting his chin on my shoulder once my hair was tied up.

“Hi,” I said softly, staring at his reflection in the mirror.

“Hi.”

I chuckled a little, tilting my head to rest on his. He squeezed me a little tighter. I winced.

“Tattoo,” I reminded him.

“Oh, sorry, I keep forgetting-”

“It’s okay, Peter.”

He turned his face and kissed my neck.

“I’m gonna go brush my teeth. I’ll meet you downstairs?”

“Sounds good.”

He left the room, leaving me to finish fiddling with my hair. Once I’d given up, I went downstairs. There were leftovers in the fridge from yesterday, so I had some French toast while I waited for Peter. When he came downstairs, his hair was a little damp.

“I thought you were just gonna brush your teeth,” I teased.

“Yeah, but I felt gross from all the sweat from last night.”

He got breakfast for himself, and we ate. Dad came downstairs a couple hours later and joined us in the kitchen, pulling out the blender and making himself a smoothie. I jumped at the sound at first, and Peter immediately put a hand on my back.

“You okay, honey?” Dad said upon turning off the blender and turning to see me.

“Loud noise,” Peter explained.

I shook my head. “I’m fine. It just made me jump.”

Dad came over. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s okay. Let’s just head out.”

Peter and Dad glanced at each other, but didn’t fight me on it, so we finished breakfast and headed out.

We got to May’s after a long, boring drive. She buzzed us up, and was waiting at her door when we got upstairs.

“Happy belated birthday, MJ!”

She pulled me into a tight hug, and it stung, but I didn’t say anything. I didn’t want her to let go, at least just for a moment. Part of me still felt guilty about Peter’s attempt, I guess.

When she did let go, she lovingly brushed some baby hairs out of my face.

“Alright, come on it.”

_\---Peter---_

We all hung out in the living room, playing board games for a few hours, watched a few episodes of a new Netflix special. MJ was usually pretty critical of movies and TV shows, but I realized a couple episodes in that she was particularly critical of this one.

As she was starting to ramble about how problematic an episode was, I stopped her.

“Hey, love, when was the last time you ate?”

She frowned, thinking. “Breakfast?”

Mr. Stark started to stand. “Let’s go get food.”

MJ hesitated. “Aren’t we supposed to be staying indoors, trying to keep me on the down low?”

“I’ll be right with you the whole time,” he assured her. “Same with Peter. You’re safe.”

She agreed, so we left.

\---

We ended up at this restaurant a few blocks away. It was relatively fancy, and kind of busy. We managed to get a table, thanks to Mr. Stark’s face, and sat down. We ordered drinks, and were deciding on food, when MJ got up.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom.”

“You want me to come with you?” May asked.

MJ shook her head. “I’m fine, but thank you.” She ruffled my hair as she walked past, looking back and smiling at me before disappearing around a corner.

Mr. Stark turned to me. “Do you know what you wanna get?”

I shrugged. “The burgers look good, and I wouldn’t be mad at some bacon-”

There was a small thump that came from the bathrooms. My head snapped towards it.

“What?” May asked.

I frowned. “Super-hearing, I guess,” I said, shrugging it off. “Anyways, um, what were you thinking about getting, Mr. Stark?”

“The ribs look really good to me-”

I could hear MJ’s heartbeat now, faintly thumping, quickening. If I could hear it from here, it was pounding.

“I’m just gonna go check on MJ,” I interrupted.

“Oh, sweetie, I can-”

I stood up before May could finish. “I’ve got it,” I assured her firmly. She seemed to get the hint, sitting back in her chair.

I went around the corner to the hallway with the bathrooms, listening for MJ. There was a soft whimper, coming from an emergency exit door. I pushed through it, into a small room with a door to a stairwell on the other side, and saw Gargan, pinning MJ to the ground, covering her mouth.

“Hey!”

I tackled him, rolling him off of MJ, and pinned him down.

“Peter!”

Gargan had a knife in his hand, pointing it at my throat.

“Sensitive ears you’ve got there,” he marvelled, speaking slowly and confidently. “Anything else about you I should know?”

I had my web shooters on, but I couldn’t flip them open while I had him pinned like this. Both of my hands were occupied, and I was worried any sudden movements would leave me with a dagger in my jugular.

The door swung open again, hitting the wall.

“Drop the knife, Gargan,” Mr. Stark said. I could hear his blaster’s high whine as it powered up.

In my moment of distraction, he punched me under my ribs, knocking the air out of me, and pushed me off of him. I managed to grab the knife, hitting his wrist as I rolled off of him and taking the knife right out of his hand. Gargan fumbled for a gun in his waistband, but when he pulled it out, Mr. Stark grabbed it out of his hand, standing over him.

There was a moment of silence. MJ was standing on one side of the room, me on the other, Gargan and Mr. Stark in the middle.

“Nothing?” Mr. Stark said. “You’ve got your own gun pointed at your face and you’ve got nothing?”

I waved to MJ from across the room, and she ran behind her dad and into my arms, her arms wrapping around my neck as I hugged her around her waist.

“It’s okay,” I whispered to her, squeezing her tighter. I tried not to put any pressure on her ribs, but I was a little hopped up on adrenaline and trying to keep her safe.

“Alright, _Mac_ , you’ve got about ten seconds to say something halfway intelligent before I start asking MJ where exactly you shot her,” Mr. Stark threatened.

“What about the-”

“I changed my mind.”

_BANG._

MJ flinched, and I held her tighter, watching Mr. Stark as he stood over Gargan.

_BANG. BANG. BANG._

I glanced at MJ, as she watched in horror.

“Mr. Stark, should we-”

_BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG._

The gun clicked, and Mr. Stark dropped it on Gargan’s mangled body. His head was…gone. It was blood and mush, splattered along the wall and floor. Completely unrecognizable.

“Honey, we should-”

“Don’t,” MJ said, voice shaky and broken. She pulled out of my arms and ran back into the restaurant.

Mr. Stark looked at me, helmet folding back into the suit. “Did I scare her?”

I set my jaw. “Not just her.”

I followed MJ, leaving Mr. Stark alone in the connecting room.

—-

“Your shock blanket’s slipping off your shoulder,” I mumbled, tugging it back into place. MJ summoned a weak smile. “You okay?”

“I’m sitting on the back of an ambulance with a shock blanket because my dad shot the guy who kidnapped me in the face ten times. No, I’m not okay.”

I glanced over at Mr. Stark. He was talking to the police a few yards away.

“Do you need anything from me?” I asked gently.

“I don’t know.” She slumped against me, closing her eyes. “I’m not gonna be able to sleep tonight, am I?”

“If it makes you feel any better, I won’t be able to either.”

She groaned. “It’s stupid, because I know he’s killed before. It’s part of his job. But that was…”

“Yeah. I know.”

Cold. Inhuman. Murderous.

“He did it because he loves you.” It was more a reminder to myself than to her.

“I know.”

“Doesn’t help, does it?”

“No.”

May came over, comforting smile on her face. “You two doing okay?”

MJ forced another smile. “Yeah.”

“Do you wanna stay in town tonight?” she asked.

I could feel MJ tense up. “I think I’d feel safer at the base,” she said gently.

She sat down next to me. “Okay, that’s completely fair.” She ran her hand up and down my back.

Mr. Stark came back over, looking a little less sure of himself than usual.

Just a little.

“We’re good to go,” he said, taking a deep breath.

“Drive safe, okay?” May responded. Mr. Stark nodded. “Have a good night, sweetie. Text me if you need anything.” She kissed my temple, then gave MJ an assuring shoulder squeeze, and then left.

MJ looked at me, clearly uncomfortable at the prospect of an hour in the car with him.

—-

When we got back to the base, she made a beeline for her room. Mr. Stark looked at me.

“Did I upset her?”

I didn’t answer. I went up to my room.

_\---MJ---_

I ended up telling Peter I wanted to sleep on my own. I knew I wasn’t going to be able to sleep, and I didn’t wanna keep him up if I was pacing or painting.

I ended up painting. Specifically, I found my corsage from the other night and dug through some craft supplies. I wanted to dry them to make them part of a painting, but I didn’t wanna wait weeks for that, so I was gonna have to speed up the process via microwave drying. I got all my supplies together and went downstairs. I had my flowers in a container with silica gel, and put that in the microwave with a mug of water. I put the microwave on a fairly low setting and set it to go for a few minutes.

“Hey.”

I turned to see Uncle Rhodes, standing on the other side of the kitchen.

“Hi.”

“Your dad told me you’re upset with him. Do you wanna talk about it?”

I shook my head. “I’m okay, Rhodey.”

He hesitated. “He scared you, didn’t he?”

Trying not to show exactly how right he was, I said, “A little, yeah.”

He nodded knowingly.

“It’s just that one or two bullets would’ve been enough.”

“Yeah. I don’t know what was going through his head, but I think he was just angry, MJ. You’re his baby girl and Gargan tried to kill you more than once. But it doesn’t make the fact that he scared you any better, I guess.”

The microwave beeped, and I took out the flowers, checking to see if they were dry enough. The silica gel was scalding hot to the touch, so I had to be careful, but the petals weren’t completely dry yet, so back into the microwave the container went.

As I was setting it to go for another minute, I said, “I know I can’t be mad at him for it, but it’s just…it’s one thing to know he’s killed people before and another to see it, you know? And it just…didn’t look like Dad. He was so brutal.”

Rhodey nodded. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want it to change anything.”

“Just give it a little bit of time, okay? He’s the same guy as this morning.”

I didn’t wanna say that maybe I wasn’t the same as this morning, so I didn’t. I pulled my flowers out of the microwave, touching the petals carefully. They were crisp to the touch.

“I’m gonna go back upstairs.”

“Okay. Have a good night, MJ.”

“You too.”

I went back up to my room, leaving the flowers in the container to cool off slowly, and then pulled out a canvas and some paints. I kinda just…went ham on the canvas. I slathered on navy and indigo and dusty blue and teal and blended some parts into each other and left other parts with the brushstrokes and edges and clear lines between shades. I found some white, grey, black, and gold, and started to do a bit of a marble pattern with the thinnest paint brush I owned. Once I was satisfied (read: scared of I did any more I’d overdo it and ruin the whole piece), I cleaned up my paints and left the canvas to dry, and went to the washroom.

I showered, scrubbing bits of paint off of me, washing my hair, all of that. I tried to summon the energy to go through my full pampering routine, but gave up and crawled into bed.

I checked my phone and saw a text from Peter.

Peter: he came by my room to say goodnight so he might come by yours

Me: did you talk to him?

Peter: not really. what would I say?

Me: yeah I guess

Peter: I love you

Peter: text me if you need me

Me: I will

Me: goodnight, love you too

I put my phone down and turned over, closing my eyes, trying not to think about the mush that had been Gargan’s head.

It was comforting to know he was dead, which made me feel gross and guilty, but safe. He couldn’t hurt me anymore.

I pulled up the blankets, trying to bury myself a little.

A few moments later, there was a knock at my door.

“Hey, honey, can I come in?”

“Sure.”

He slowly opened the door, padding across to my bed and sitting down on the edge of it, looking at me.

“I’m sorry I scared you today.”

“I know you are.”

He hesitated. “Can we talk about it, or do you need time?”

I shifted in the bed. “Talking can’t hurt, I guess.”

He laid down on the bed next to me with a sigh. “I love you more than anything else, MJ. And he hurt you, and Peter by proxy, and I was standing there and I just…couldn’t let him walk away from it, you know?”

I didn’t say anything. I didn’t know what to say.

“Look, if you or Peter had died…I would’ve lost my mind. Probably would’ve drank myself to death. You’re my whole world.”

“What about letting him serve time?”

“I know. I should’ve just kept him there and had you call the police so they could arrest him. But…I couldn’t risk him ever getting out.”

“Dad…”

“I’m sorry, honey.”

I moved over, setting my head on his shoulder like I used to when I was a kid, right after Mom died. “I understand.”

“Do you want me to stay here tonight?” he asked gently.

I hummed. “Maybe. Just until I fall asleep. If I can.”

“Okay.”

\---Peter---

I couldn’t sleep. I figured MJ was still asleep, so I got out of bed and walked down the hallway to her room.

Her door was cracked open, so I peeked in.

“Peter,” Mr. Stark said, sounding surprised.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“Come in, kid.”

MJ was asleep, head on Mr. Stark’s shoulder. She looked so peaceful. If she was able to fall asleep next to him, I figured I should talk to him a little.

I came in, sitting down on the edge of the bed next to Mr. Stark. “She fell asleep okay?”

“Yeah. She’s probably exhausted. It was a long day.”

“Yeah.”

It was uncomfortable. Every time I looked at him, I could just see him holding that gun and pulling the trigger until it clicked uselessly.

“I know I wasn’t quite myself today,” he said. “I didn’t mean to scare either of you.”

“You were just trying to protect her, I get it.”

“And you,” he said. “I wanted to protect you.”

I stared at him.

“Peter, your attempt was…terrifying. And I couldn’t let him go unpunished because he’d hurt both of my kids and scared the living hell out of me.” He took a breath, looking at MJ. “But then I couldn’t imagine having him arrested and him getting off on a technicality or escaping prison, and I don’t want either of you to live in fear of him. I don’t wanna live in fear.”

“Yeah, okay,” I whispered. “I get it.”

“You look tired, Peter.”

I sighed, lying down next to him. “I am. Sorry, I’ll get up and go to my room in a minute.”

“It’s okay,” he said softly, pulling me a little closer to him. “You can stay.”

_\---MJ---_

I finished my art project in the morning, waking up before Dad or Peter, who, I guess, had joined us after I fell asleep. I poked holed in the canvas and threaded the short stems of the flowers through, bending them and hot gluing them to the back of the canvas, then hot gluing the base of the flower to the front, just to be safe.

“It’s beautiful,” Peter said quietly. I turned and realized he was right behind me.

“Thanks. I hope you don’t mind that I used the corsage flowers-”

“Of course I don’t mind.”

\---

Dad woke up and saw the art piece. He insisted on taking it and hanging it up in the living room. The three of us stood there, looking at it, Dad on my left and Peter on my right.

“Your art’s happy again,” Peter breathed.

I smiled, setting my head on his shoulder. I was starting to truly feel happy again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ugh this fic was so much fun to write, but i'm sorta glad it's over so I can brainstorm for a new one. I hope you guys enjoyed!


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